# LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.? 



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POEMS. 



POEMS 



BY 



LYDIA L. A. VERY 



'b 



^ 



■> Footpriuts, that perhaps another \^K 
Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother. 
Seeing, shall take heart again."' 




ANDOVER: 
FEINTED BY W. T. DRAPEK. 

1856. 



Entcrei-l. according to Act of Cungres?. in the year 1856, by 

L . L. A. VERY, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



TO MY MOTHER. 

TUIS VOLUME 
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 

L. L. A. V. 



CONTENTS 



Welcome to the Kew Year, . 






PAGE. 

13 


The Old Year, . 










. 17 


The Old Year's Charge, 










19 


The Year's Biography, 










25 


The Day, .... 










28 


The Week, . 










31 


Spring, 










33 


Spring, 










. 34 


May Morning, 










36 


May Day, . 










38 


An Invocation, 










. 41 


Autumn, 










43 


Winter, 










46 


Remember the Poor, 










49 


The Frost King's Love, 










51 


Stanzas, 










55 



O CONTEXTS 

Our veiled ones, . . ' . 

To the Virgin, 

The Morning Glory, 

To a Young Oak Tree, 

Farewell to an Old School-House, 

The Poet, . 

The Two Wishes, 

The Factory, 

Lines to a Century Plant seen in the Factory, 

Lines Addressed to the Mummies in the Boston 

scum. 
Lament of the Seamstress, 
The Cabinet-Maker, 
An Anecdote, 
The Berry Woman, 
Cupid and Death, 
Eain-Drops, 

The Hills round Salem Turnpike, 
Euthandsia, 
Death's Visit, 
Parted, but not Forever, 
Grave Flowers, 
The Grave's To-lNIorrDw, 
Graves, .... 



Mu- 



CONTENTS. 



" Miserrimus," 

Stanzas, 

Memory, 

Memory, 

The Old Man's Thoughts 

My Friend, 

Old Age, . 

An Old Man's Soliloquy, 

The Address of a Child's Soul 

ingit, . 
Thoughts of Youth, 
The First and Last. Word 
To an Infant, 
The Death-Bed, . 
Death and the Mother, 
"Our Mother Fell Asleep 
The Setting Sun, 
Blindness not Loneliness, 
Transformations, . 
Lines, . 

The Light on the Wate 
Music, 

Earth's Scenes, 
The Entrance, 



to its Body, on 



leav- 



107 
110 
112 
115 
117 
119 
121 
125 

127 
129 
131 
133 
135 
138 
140 
142 
144 
146 
148 
150 
152 
154 
156 



10 



CONTENTS. 



Hymn, 

Better Days, 

How Long ? 

The Sabbath, 

"What is it to be Religiou 

" Eoce Homo," 

The Earth Pilgrim, 

" This Man was also with Him," 

The Choice, 

Self Revelation, . 

Time's Scenes, 

The Unknown Christ, 

The Old Indian "Woman 

The First Green Leaves 

The Slumbering Soul, 

To a Memory, 

Winter Thoughts, 

The Shower, 

This Mortal must put on Immortality, 

The Sick Man, 

Lines on the Magdalene 

The Law of God, . 

Lines on the Death of a Child, 

The Picture, 



CONTENTS. 11 

Lines, 215 

The Christian Mother at the Grave of her' Dead 

Child, . . . . . . .217 

The Fugitive Slave, 219 

Christ in the Flesh, ... .221 



POEMS. 



WELCOME TO THE NEW YEAR. 



Wj^lcome, New Year ! though we are growing old, 

And Ufe looks sadder than it seemed of yore, 
And Winter's fleecy robe with ermined fold 

Doth bear a blemish miperceived before, 
And falhng stonns, grateful to boyhood's ears. 
Bring up stern poverty's distracting fears, 
¥et welcome thou ! 

Welcome to Childhood! with thy toys and books — 
Thine out-door games, the coasting and the slide. 

With graceful skating o'er thy frozen brooks — ly 

Childhood's own joys to tott'ring Age denied. 
2 



14 WELCOME TO THE NEW YEAR. 

Welcome to Childhood, tlio' thy months must bring 
The April skies that shadow life's young spring 
With smiles and tears. 

Welcome to Age ! e'en though thy steps shall lead 
Them nearer to their Father's home of rest ! 

Thine autumn shall perchance give them the seed 
Of holy purposes, a long life Idlest ; 

And when their son is set behind life's hill, 

Its rays reflected shall be Avith us still 
To give us light ! 

Welcome, New Year ! tho' Freedom, God's best gift, 

Unto three milhon souls has been denied. 
It may be thine the darksome veil to lift ! 

Through thee be heard who long in bonds have 
cried ! 
The South confess at Slavery's funeral pyre 
" The laborer is worthy of his hire," 
Whate'er his skin. 



AVELCOME TO THE NEW YEAR. 15 

Welcome, New Year ! tho' foul intemp'rance reign, 
And men for gold their brethren daily kill, 

Set thou upon their brows the mark of Cain ! 
And by their hideousness warn men from ill ! 

May one-eyed Law no longer pass them by. 

But pour their liquors where their victims lie 
In pubhc sight ! 

Welcome, New Year! may pohticians seek 
To elect the princifles more than the man ! 

Learn how men act rather ihan how they sjyeaJc, 
Nor seek the party good to public ban ! 

Nor men to office-seeking whole lives give — 

The office will come to them where they live, 
If worth the search ! 

Welcome, New Year ! may party sects no more 
Of anise, mint and cummin, pay their tithes, 

And weightier matters of the law give o'er — 

Wash judgment, mercy, faith, from out their lives ! 



16 WELCOME TO THE NEW YEAR. 

Cleansing so faitlifully the outward part, 
Leaving iniquity within the heart ! 
" Oh fools and blind ! " 

Welcome, New Year ! thy hand is placed in ours, 
Where'er thou leadest, with thee we must go ! 

Be it a thorny road, .or path of flowers. 

Still with thy seasons may our spirits grow ! 

That we in Spring new hopes and freshness find, 

And our life's Autumn have its sheaves to bind, 
God grant to all ! 



THE OLD YEAR. 17 



THE OLD YEAR. 



The year is dead ! 
It seems but yesterday 
He came among us as a little child — 
The bird's soft t^Yitter sounding o'er his way, 
While spring's pure blossoms in his bright locks smiled . C 

The year is dead ! 
His changing work is done — 
Seed-time and harvest have returned once more ; 
His race is ended with the settmg sun 
That casts its last pale beams the liill-tops o'er. 

The year is dead ! 
The hopes laid up m him, 
Granted or bhghted, all have past away — 
To all save childhood earth-life grows more dim, 
The flight of years becoming as a day ! 
2* 



18 THE OLD YEAR. 

The year is dead ! 
Not all who hailed its birth, 
With friendly greeting or with earnest prayer, 
Are gathered round the board ; beside the hearth ; 
Some tearful eyes behold a vacant chair ! 

The year is dead ! 
It seems but yesterday 
He came among us as a little child — 
The bird's soft twitter soundmg o'er his way, 
While spring's pure blossoms in his bright locks smiled. 



THE OLD year's CHARGE. 19 



THE OLD YEAR'S CHARGE. 



TwAS midnight : through the street, 

(Soundmg Uke blast 
Old Winter blows upon his horn,) 

A carriage glided past ; 

Two forms within it sat ; 

The one a child, 
Whose cheeks like ruddy apples shone, 

And oft he gayly smiled. 

Beside him, shiv'ring, crouched, 

Feeble and weak. 
With silv'ry hair, a pale, old man ; 

And as he tried to speak. 

His accents tremulous 
As autumn leaf. 



20 THE OLD year's CHARGE. 

Which from the tree the wind would tear 
Despite its plaintive grief. 

Thus to the child he spoke : 

" How gay thou art ! 
Once like the birds I carolled forth — 

And joyance filled my heart ! 

Thy task before thee lies — 

To this poor home 
Where I brought want and suflering, 

Let hope and gladness come ! 

Their cruise fill to the brim — 

Let better days 
With plenty overrun the board ! 

Then go thy w^ays. 

Here where the sick one lies, 

And hope hath fled, 
And like a floAver foot-crushed at morn 

Hangs doAvn her fair young head, 



THE OLD year's CHARGE. 21 

Go breathe of health and strength — 

Of sweet, fresh air — 
The woods her feet shall tread once more, 

With summer verdure fair ! 

This circle whence I led 

The youngest forth, 
When Death upon the threshold stood — 

And darkness filled the earth ! 

Bring to them earnest joy ; 

Let new life come ! 
Put in their midst a little child 

Fresh from his Father's home ! 

And here M'here I gave wealth, 

TiU riot reigned. 
And Waste looked coldly on the poor, 

Kor felt at Mis'ry pained. 

Bring thou sharp poverty — 
And let them feel, 



22 THE OLD year's CHARGE. 

By sore experience wiser gTOAvn, 

The pangs they would not heal ! 

There where disease bows down. 

And dark despair 
Hath marked the suff 'rer for her own, 

With woes too hard to bear, 

call Death unto him ! 

Earth hath no charms, 
When the soul seeks through anguish won 

Its Saviour's outstretched arms ! 

Where ignorance abounds, 

Send thou the good 
To shed the light of knowledge round, 

And give the mind its food." 

Still as they passed along. 

From casements spread 
Hands that would stay the Old Year's flight 

Seeking, before he fled, 



THE OLD year's CHARGE. 23 

To heal the wounds their words 

In passion gave — 
Forsake their sins, their Hves to mend, 

Their victim's fame to save ! 

But onward, onward still, 

Like hurrying blast. 
The carriage from them rolled away, 

And fled with it the Past ! 

Then from the tall Church Towers, 

With brazen tliroats. 
The Bells rang forth a merry peal : 

Pleased with their changing notes, 

The child re-echoed forth 

Each passing sound ; 
" One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, 

Nme, ten, 'leven, twelve, a round ! " 

The carriage stopped ; the child, 
His rosy face 



24 THE OLD year's CHANGE. 

Pressed to the Old Year's cold, pale lips, 
In one long, last embrace ! 

Then in the street leaped down 
The bright New Year ! 

And children waking in their beds 
Greeted with merry cheer 

Each other ; but the old, 

Wakeful and worn. 
Thought of the leaf from their Life Book 

That Time for God had torn ! 



THE year's biography. 25 



THE YEAR'S BIOGRAPHY. 



The year is old, but his dress is gav ; 

'Tis red, and yelloAv, and green. 
'Tis Ijrighter than -when he sleeping lay 

In the arms of Winter, I ween. 
Old Winter his nurse covered him o'er 

With a pale, white quilt of snow, 
And crisped Avith frost was the cap he wore 

Though Avithout a ruffle or boAv ; 
And Avhen he began to go alone. 

He dressed in A'iolet blue. 
Or a snow-drop robe was o'er him throAvn, 

Or one of the buttercup's hue ; 
But though he Avas young, none called him gay 

And the Avild birds loved him Avell ; 
With them and Avith butterflies he Avould play 

Forever o'er hillock and dell. 
But o'er the young year there came a change. 

He kncAv he Avas jci'OAvino; old ! 



2(3 THE YEAR S BIOGRAPHY. 

How cross he felt ! and wicked, and stran,i;-e, 

If the truth must all l)e told. 
Then he dressed himself in colors bright, 

In purple, red, green and gold, 
As we often see an aged wight 

Trying to look and seem less old. 
Then ho called the birds, his former friends, 

But frightened they flew away ; 
Well merited scorn ever attends 

Such attempts to disguise decay. 
Then in a passion was old king year ! 

He Avithercd each blooming flower. 
Lest it more bright than he might appear ; 

And abroad in each garden bower 
He shook the leaves in thick showers doAvn, 

And laughed at the trees' distress ; 
So vexed was he that the birds had flown, 

Nor stopped to admire his bright dress ; 
And then he thought he'd look at himself ; 

He bent him over a lake, 
But thought he saw there a frightful old elf, 

Not the ima2;e his form would make. 



THE YEAll'S EIOGRAPHY. 27 

He froz3 up the lake and went away ; 

But grew sick and took to his bed ; 
His nurse at his side refused to stay, 

Because, as malicious ones said, 
^ladame Century had paid her well 

To come at the New Year's birth ! 
So the poor Old Year, oh, sad to tell ! 

Fncaved for, soon passed from the earth. 



28 THE DAY. 



THE DAY. 



OvEii the hills m mello-w light 

Came ^lorning ; after her the Hours ; 

The first was Prayer ; upon her forehead white, 
Glistened a star like rain-drop after showers. 

Unseen she glided on her way, 

But not unfelt ! for bowing down 
In hall and cot, men meekly turned to pray — 

Prayer is the brightest gem in ]Morning's crown ! 

Pleasure came next, soft whispering, 

In rosy mantle was she drest. 
Telling the young of joys the day might Ijring, 

Urging them onward to a weary (juest. 

Then Care drcAV near with wrinkled brow, 
And men gre'w anxious as slie told 



THE DAY. 29 

'J'lic many ^loutlis to fead tliey kuCAV not how — 
The little ones to guard from Avant and cold ! 

Then Labor SAvarth Avith sincAvs SAA^elled, 
Bade man the forge, the shop, the field 

To seek, 'neath the same laAv that came of eld — 
Which man's inA^entions haA^e not yet repealed. 

Hope then appeared, Avith rainboAV Aving, 

Fanning the flame that feedetli life : 
Telling, the morroAv brighter things might bring — 

That tlie next hour Avith gladness might be rife ! 

As floAver springs up to catch the breeze. 
Smiles in the sunshine AA'aLrm that fills 

Its cup, though seldom falls it 'neath the trees. 
So the heart rises hopeward 'mid its ills ! 



The Day upon yon distant hill 

Her blushing cheek turned to our gaze. 

Till Night led forth her star-zoned Hours, to fill 
Heaven's blue o'cr-arching hall Avith silv'ry rays. 



30 THE DAY. 

Night, soothing spirit, that can hill 

The worn and weary to repose, 
Earth's famished ones to hunger's gnawings dull. 

The mourner's eyes in calm oblivion close ! 

^Mortality still needs thine hours, 

jMore than the earth her winter rest ; 

^lore grateful than the rain to drooping flowers ! 
Or to the weary bird his downy nest. 



THE WEEK. 31 



THE WEEK. 



The Week seven daughters had : 

Six unto toil were given, 
The seventh in beauty clad 

Did naught from morn till even. 

They washed, they cook'd, they swept, 

They worked unceasingly ; 
But feeling wronged, they wept 

That she toiled not as they ! 

And to the Week they came, 
" Why should one daughter rest, 

Faring each day the same, 
And being better drest ! " 

And the week thus replied : 
" She unto God was dven ! 



32 THE WEEK. 

From birth was set aside 
An off'ring imto heaven. 

Her work is all unseen ; 

She worketh silently, 
As streamlet through the green 

Keeps on its peaceful way. 

Ye do the outward part, 

Cleansing each plate and bowl ; 

She careth for the heart, 
And purifies the soul ! 

Let each her station fill 
As she hath talents given ; 

So shall ye do God's will, 

And fit yourselves for heaven ! " 



SPRING. 33 



SPRING. 



The gentle spring is coming ; she but Avaits 

The bursting of the buds to hear 
The robins calhng to their mates 

In notes of sweetest music gushing clear ; 
Waits till the little flower can raise its head 

Nor longer fear the wintry storm, 
When falling on its garden bed 

The yellow sun-beams are so bright and warm. 
Waits, till the silent rill from ice set free 

Shall flow once more along the glade ; 
Till in the meadow wide she see 

The springing grass, with tender, verdant blade. 
And when these come, then will the spring be here, 
To gladden those, ayIio thought the winter drear. 



34 SPRIXG. 



SPRING. 



Spring is hei-c ; lier robe of green is ready ; 
Maiden like before she clothes herself 
She waits to S33 if 'tis becoming. Soiled 
Is her robe of Ermine, but she holds it 
To lier bosom, with the ill taste of one 
Preferring dirty costliness to nice 
Simplicity ! INIuch work awaiteth her, 
Strange that she loiters so about her dress ! 
§he hath the flowers to raise in ev'ry yard. 
Where oft the poor child runs to see if they 
Are peeping from the snow ; upon each hill. 
In ev'ry grot and dell where many eyes 
Will look for them on ^lay day. Then she hath 
The birds to call from o'er the waters wide. 
Unto the woods once vocal with their songs. 
Now mute ! She hath the ground to soften for 
The husbandman, the seeds to Avatch and nurse. 



SPRING. 35 

The trees to prune -with her sliarp knife-like winds, 
The swelhng buds t'unroll, the leaves to spread. 
Oh hath she not enough to do ! Her tasks 
Arc like a ivoman^s ! Their name is Legion ! 
Then ^yonder not she hath her stormy days ; 
Or that her voice ( the wind ) doth rise, or rain 
( Her tear-drops ) fall ! I -wonder she can smile 
At all. And much more that some poor women 
With their many tasks bearing tliem grave-ward 
Ever smile ! 



36 MAY MORNING. 



MAY MORNING. 



May morning. We were young again ; in thought 
With wicker baskets through the fields we search 
For the Anemone blooming beneath 
The prickly barberry which still retains 
A few of its dry berries. Treading down 
The tender grass just growing green, we seek 
The Violet, which looks as if it were 
A portion of the bright blue sky above 
Dropped down amid green leaves to find a home. 
And 'neath the tall, dry fern, the snowdrop pale, 
Which it would seem the cunning Spring had made 
From the last remnant of old Winter's snow. 
We see the same young faces Avhich around 
Us hovered once, the tiny fingers try 
With vain attempts, to hold the May Flowers 
Bursting from their grasp. Little feet around 
Are speeding, brushing the dew-drops nestling 



MAY MORNING. 37 

On bending leaves, in sparkling showers down. 
Clear meny voices ring in the sweet air 
When the wood's inmate the brown squirrel jumps 
From out his hiding place, or spring's first birtl 
With tuneful twitter flieth by. 

And when 
The flowers were found, and not a-Yiolet 
Held up its head to meet the little hand, 
The children on some mossy rock spread cut 
Their treasures, to arrange them for the best 
Effect. Then with their bunches wandered home. 
Giving their parents the first culled nose-gay 
Of the Spring. Being themselves fau' 3Iay Fhnoers 
Springing up in earth's wide pasture, waiting 
The Angel who should gather them in love 
And give them to his Father. Wonder not 
That he should choose ^ha fairest buds, e'en as 
A child doth love the flowers most beautiful. 
Rather rejoice, that from earth transplanted 
They may bloom, nor fear the chilling night winds, 
" For there is no nigld there I " 
4 



38 MAT DAY. 



MAY DAY. 



Flowers were blooming, 
The woods perfuming 

With fragrant smell ; 
And coming May Day 
(Tlie childrens' play day,) 
In grot and dell 
Was looked to with a universal fear, 
And flowers were called in council far and near. 

The Rose presided, 
And she derided 

Their fertile fears : 
" Our thorns will wound them, 
We twine around them 

And pull their ears ! " 
And the Berry vines said, " we'll trip them up ! " 
But the snow-drop had a tear in its cup ; 



MAY DAY. 39 

" Don't hurt them," saying, 
" I closely laving 

My head to earth, 
My blossoms Mding 
Will fold, abiding 

The May day's birth ! " 
And the Violet said, " I'll lay me down 
And sleep till the light fingered thieves have flown." 

" As well poor flower 
Since you've no power ! " 

The Rose replied, 
" The Briers and I 
Seek for victory ! 

Cowards may hide ! " 
Then she put her thorns in warlike array. 
While Snowdrop and Violet sleeping lay. 



The May day was over ; 
Each tired little rover 
Had gone to rest ; 



40 MAY DAY. 

And a few sad flo-vyers 

In their rifled bowers 

The green turf prcst ; 
The Snowdrop, though pale, was fair as ever, 
The Yiulet's eyes looked bluer never ! 

But the warlike Rose 
Tliough she tore the clothes 

Of many a thief. 
And pricked their fingers, 
Alas ! she lingers 
Without a leaf ! 
And the Briers who hung around the foe, 
To pieces were cut, ere they let them go ! 



AX INVOCATIOX. 41 



AN INVOCATION. 



Come up, Flowers ! Winter at length departing 
Gathers his snowy robe from hill and lea ; 

'Tis time your blossoms fair from earth were starting 
To cheer the hopes of dull mortality ! 

Come up, Flowers ! tell us Death fills his furrow 
With seeds of life, of joy, immortal bloom ! 

Though all the watering of earthly sorrow 
Recalls their beauty not this side the tomb. 

Border, Flowers, the hills' bro^T:i, homely garment 
With delicate white fringe and trembling blue ; 

No more hke pris'ners pale in darkened cells bent, 
Return the sun's warm kiss, drink in the dew. 

Thrust up your heads between earth's grassy fingers, 
The first formed nosegay found m Nature's hand ; 
4* 



42 AX INYOCATIOX. 

Hasten each backward bud that vreaklj Imgers 
Ere it obeys the Spring's ^vide spread command. 

Arise, Flowers ! and cover earth's rough pL^ces ; 

Cushion each rocky hill ; each rugged way ; 
Let the fresh bursting brooks reflect your faces — 

And children lure with Nature forth to stray ! 

Awake, Flowers ! tell us Death fills his furrow 
With seeds of life, of joy, immortal bloom ! 

To rise in heaven in robes earth cannot borrow, 
Nor earthly suns bring forth this side the tomb ! 



AUTUMIJ-. 43 



AUTUMN. 



A RUDDY flush is on his cheek, 
Like the sun-painted apple's streak ; 
His nut-brown eves of pleasure speak. 

Upon his brow bright golden-rod 

And purple asters gajdj nod, 

But no sweet perfume shed abroad. 

Across his shoulders, broad and strong, 
High faggot heaps he bears along, 
And scatters round the poor among. 

He shakes the nut-trees in the grove, 
Where happj children jearlj rove 
To share the merry sport thej love. 



44 AUTUMN. 

He rides the loads of fragrant hay, 
And straw that ghstens on the way, 
Like golden tints at set of day. 



"^Vliere orchard fruits blush overhead, 
Or purple grapes their fragrance spread. 
Or silv'ry grahi bends towards earth's bed. 



Ere scarce the summer months have gone, 
Plow Autumn's footsteps hurrying on, 
Skirt through the fields and o'er the lawn ! 



His viewless fingers strip the trees — 
With winged seeds he loads the breeze — 
His far-sight floAvers in Spring's lap sees ! 



Tims may each Life its Autumn find • 
Its laden fields, its sheaves to bind, 
Leave treasures to enrich mankind ! 



AUTUMN. 45 

Spread io\ind the feathered seeds of weal, 
Each pam to soothe, each sorrow heal, 
All men as brethren cause to feel ! 

Thus may Life's Autumn brightlv glow, 
From seeds our childish hands did sow 
In many a field and broken row ! 

From what we deemed a common thing, 

A plant our tears gave watering — 

A glorious flower for heaven may spring ! 



46 WINTER. 



WINTER. 



Childhood its rosy arms round Winter's neck 

Is fondlj iiinging, 
Wliile from the hill and field and frozen lake 

Clear shouts are ringing ; 
Wifcliin liis frosty hair small fingers creep, 

And undismayed 
Beneath his shaggy brows doth careless peep 

Each lad and maid. 

For 'tis his hand with gems each tree and spray 

Profusely decking ; 
Aladdin's cave ne'er made such grand display 

As he is making ! 
A s'trange, fantastic painter Winter is, 

Nor works for gold ! 
The poor man owns the pictures that arc his, 

So quauit and cold. 



WINTER. 47 

Childhood and Winter ever were good fi'iends, 

Together playing ; 
As gleeful 'mid the frosty flowers he sends, 

As erst a Maying ; 
But imto Age old Winter holds liis hand 

All, all in vaui ! 
Age dreads the cold, chill gales that sweep the land, 

The snow and rain ; — 

• 
Age loves the glowmg fire, the cheering blaze, 

And Mem'ry's story 
Recalling twice-told tales of olden days 

In all their glory ! 
When boisterous Winter rattles at the door 

With noisy shout, 
Age bids the curling flame ascend once more, 

i\.nd keeps him out ! 

From Winter's cold embrace Age ever turns — 

In frame decajang 
The soul for some more genial climate yearns, 

Is ever praying ; 



48 WINTER. 

Where AVinter bligliteth not life's last, few flowers • 

But a new Spring, 
Tlicse, to perfection, with its kindlier shovrers. 

Doth strive to brino; ! 



REMEMBER THE POOR. 49 



REMEMBER THE tOOR. 



The wind blows cold, and while you fold 
Your Cashmere round you nice and wann, 

Lady remember, this December 
Many, a one feels cold and storm. 

Your fire glows bright ; before its light 

A well fed lapdog lies at ease ; 
How many you meet while in the street, 

At home who starve, abroad who freeze. 

Your plants are fair ; in this warm air 

They bloom as bright as where they grew ; 

The song of your bird as oft is heard 
As when in the green woods he flew. 

Your eyes o'erflow with scenes of woe 
A novelist can well portray ; 
5 



50 REMEMBER THE POOR. 

Sadder scenes than these Life's Reader sees 
In the page of Every Day ! 

The wind blows cold, and while you fold 
Your Cashmere round you nice and warm, 

Lady, remember, this December 
Many a one feels want and storm ! 



THE FROST KING'S LOVE. 51 



THE FROST KING'S LOVE. 



I AM the Frost King ! in summer time, 
Wlien soft winds blow and brooklets chime, 

I dwell in mountain caves ; 
Or wander round the mountain's top, 
While far below the wild goats crop 

The short grass as it waves. 

I spread the sheets for the trav'ler's bed, 
Where wildered, lost, he lays his head 

And dreams his life away ; 
Or standing stiffly I freeze him there. 
With clasped hands like a statue of Prayer, 

To meet the sun's cold ray. 

But when 'tis Avinter, aye then Tm King ! 
I leave the mountain's constant ring 

Of ice and frost-bound snow, 



52 THE FROST KING'S LOVE. 

I visit forest, field, garden, glen, 
And lay commands on sMv'ring men 

Who dwell in vales below ! 

But I've been conquered ! yes, I, the King ! 
While round the city wandering ; 

Held captive by a maid ! 
I thought myself an anchorite cold — 
But tried round her my arms to fold 

As through the street she strayed. 

Her mantle round her she closer drew, 
From my embrace she swiftly flew ; 

I followed to her home — 
Alas, I could find no entrance there, 
Hot anthracite I ne'er could bear. 

So stiU abroad must roam. 

But in the night I adorned the trees 
With jewels bright her taste to please, 
And on each window pane 



THE FROST KING'S LOVE. 53 

The purest landscapes I painted there. 
With castle, lake, and garden fair. 

And fields of waving grain. 

And when she rose my paintings to view, 
And near the glass her red Ups drew. 

Don't wonder that I tried. 
Perhaps too rudely, those lips to kiss — 
When quick as thought, the haughty miss 

Drew back in scornful pride ! 

Then sadly I wandered up and down 
Till light and day alike had flown, 

And evening closed around ; 
When in the gathermg gloom I spied 
The maiden wandermg by my side ; 

Nor on the snow did sound 

The echoings of her tiny feet. 

As on she passed like red deer fleet. 

But not too swift for me ! 
5* 



54 THE FHOST KING's LOVE. 

Througliout that night we wandered round — 
How warmly then my heart did bound, 

But cold, how cold, was she ! 

And as on her I madly gazed 

Her meek blue eyes to heaven she raised — 

In prayer her pale lips moved — 
I threw my mantle round her form, 
And with caresses sought to warm 

The lips of her I loved. 

But as the morning's rays 'stole there, 
I saw white winged angels bear 

Her, from earth's storms away ! 
Still round her grave I Hngering go. 
And winter's wreaths of purest snow 

Upon the sod I lay ! 

Though spring brings there her fairest flowers, 
Hastens their groAvth with falling showers, 

And the sun's quick'ning ray. 
Yet nought like wiater's pure wreaths tell, 
With fringed spray and icy bell, 

That she has passed away ! 



£TANZAS. 65 



STANZAS. 



Sat a monk in cloister lonely, 

Shriving of a maiden fair ; 
Fell the light, soft, pale and golden, 

Where from snood burst forth her hair. 

On the wall a carved Jesus 

Brought Death's agony to view ; 

Close beside a risen Saviour — 
Conflict there and vict'ry too ! 

Nought of lives of calm seclusion — 
Nought of riged fast or prayer — 

Nought of saintly self delusion — 
Filled the monk and maiden there ; 

But new thoughts of earthly freedom. 
Social joys and social cares, 



56 STANZAS. 

Household love and laughing children, 
Earnest hopes and earnest prayers 



Evening falls ; the carved Jesus 
Looketh quaintly from the wall ; 

Absent both are monk and maiden — 
All unheard the Hour Bell's call. 

Far upon Life's pleasant journey 
They are trav'ling hand in hand ; 

Mid its pleasures and its sorrows 
Seek they now the Better Land. 

Not in lives of calm seclusion 
The one talent hid in earth ; 

But in social living, striving, 
Shall the soul attain its worth. 



OUR VEILED 0XE3. 57 



OUR VEILED ONES. 



Old Convents, vaunt your sisterhood ! 
We boast the ladies in our streets ! 
As pure, as beautiful, as good, 

As in your ^yalls the trav'ler meets. 
Unlike them clad in colors bright 
As changeful as the rainbow's light. 

The white veil floats o'er many a cheek 

Where the }'oung heart hath made its vow, 
Not in dark cells its God to seek, ^ 

Nor round the Altar's pomp to bow ; 
But bound where her best love is given 
To strive through worldly cares for heaven ! 

And though dark veils are waving here 

O'er eyes whose light is sadly dim. 
Pale cheeks on which the bitter tear 

Comes gushing o'er the swollen brim, 



58 OUR VEILED ONES. 

Yet life and beauty round do steal 
To ease a wound but time can heal. 

No petty deeds of miscalled sin 

Are breathed in man's unholy ear ! 
They, mid the city's strife and din 
Confess to God, who still can hear. 
And their hearts find the purest springs 
Where social life its halo flings. 

The green veil shadeth many a face, 

Bright as the rose beneath its green, 
And dresses gay as flowers we trace 
, Where ladies in their walks are seen : 

And to their ears no Convent Bell 

Its tale of solitude doth tell. 

Old Convents, vaunt your sisterhood ! 
We boast the ladies in our streets ! 
As pure, as beautiful, as good. 
As in your walls the trav'ler meets. 
Unlike them clad in colors bright, 
As chano;eful as the rainbow's lio;ht. 



TO TUE VIRGIN. 59 



TO THE VIRGIN. 



Oh holy Mother ! had no Angel's voice 

Proclaimed the Christ should nestle in thine arms, 

Had no glad tidings bid thine heart rejoice, 
Would'st thou have seen aught but an infant's 
charms ? 

Would the small dimpled hand have told to thee 
That it possessed for men a healmg power ? 

That it should make the blind new beantj see 
From the blue heavens, to the small blusliing 
flower ? 

In the low childish voice, would'st thou have heard 
Token of Him who should command the sea ? 

Who should recall the spirit by a word. 

In the same earthly home once more to be ? 



60 TO THE VIRGIN. • 

Or would the Saviour have been held by thee 
As now full many a babe unconscious lies, 

Plaything for wealth, burden for poverty, 
An unknown Angel in an earthly guise ! 

Methinks the Saviour was to thee revealed 
That thou shouldst grieve him not in infancy. 

Proud that thine arms the Holy Child might shield, 
The opening promise of earth's brighter day ! 



THE MORNING GLORY. 61 



THE MORNING GLORY. 



The Morning Glory, 'tis a humble flower, 

Clasping its fingers round the poor man's door, 
Where in return for light, sunshine and shower, 

It giveth forth of beauty all its store 1 
Upward, still upward to the cottage eaves. 

How constantly it groweth hour by hour, 
Till on the thatch repose its heart-shaped leaves, 

And nods in short-lived beauty there its flower. 
Meanwliile the soul, striking its roots below, 

CHngs like the moss more closely to decay. 
Forgetting that on high its flowers might blow. 

And shed their perfume in eternal day ! 
Receiving light and heat, and moisture given. 
But rising not each day nearer to heaven ! 
6 



C2 TO A YOUXG OAK TREE. 



TO A YOUNG OAK TREE. 



And can it be thou hast more life than I ? 
And years that raise thee up, shall bow me down ; 
That my bent form shall wear its silv'ry crown, 
While thy green head uprears itself on high ? 

That earth bestows on me but one short Spring, 
One sunny day of youth, and all is o'er — 
That childhood's hours return to meiio more, 
When circling years to thee new youth shall bring ? 

And can it be thou risest from earth's breast 
Never again in dust to lay thee down ? 
While I, when earthly 'years are spent and gone, 
Must 'neath the sod sink to my final rest ! 

The childish hands that span around thee now 
Shall palsied be ere thou art growing old ! 



TO A YOUNG OAK TREE. 68 

Ere thy last year its circle in thee fold — 
And the last songster sing upon thy bough ! 

How if this life were «//, mankind would bow 
In very Aveakness at thy fresh, green life ! 
While in itself decay's dark seeds were rife, 
And at its birth and death, thou, fair as now ! 

But no immortal bloom within thee lies ! 
With Eden's shades thy graft of life hath died ! 
And thou shalt lie by the low grass spire's side, 
Though I behold it not with mortal eyes. 

While I shall live through boundless ages on ! 
(Seemingly weak and frail compared to thee,) 
An heir of God ! of vast Eternity ! 
Whilst thou forever from the earth art gone. 



64 FAREWELL TO AN OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE. 



FAREWELL TO AN OLD SCHCOL-HOUSE. 



School-house, farewell ! 
No more the tinkling bell 
Shall call up little footsteps to your door — 
Nor walking round, 
Shall echo give the sound 
Of classes forming on your smooth worn floor. 

No more shall Prayer, 
Heaven rising in the air, 
Erom cliildren's voices float like incense sweet, 
Nor songs be heard 
Eiv'ling the woodland bird, 
The visitor or passer-by to greet. 

Here nevermore. 
Conning his lesson o'er, 



FAREWELL TO AN OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE. 65 

With thoughtful face the student young shall stand, 
Nor more be heard 
Hopeful or chiding word — 
Nor silent questioner raise up his hand. 

Joys clustered here, 
Pleasures to childhood dear ; 
Clear, merry shouts thy play ground hears no more — 
No hopes and fears 
I3ring now their smiles and tears. 
Those April skies by which life spring buds bore. 

And now, farewell ! 
Whatever truth there fell. 
Whatever patience with ill-deeds has striven. 
Be God's the praise ! 
Whatever sin there lays. 
Things done not for the best, be they forgiven ! 
6* 



Q6 THE POET. 



THE POET. 



By his fire the Poet sitting, 
Closed his eyes as in a dream ; 

While his fancies round him flitting 
From the fire-light strangely gleam ! 

Romid his bright locks how they flutter, 
While they whisper in his ear, 

These reproaches, which they utter 
In a tone but he can hear. 

" Why are you fore\^er sending 
Us abroad in such a dress ? 

Little thought upon us spending. 
On the public or the press ? 

Why are you not ever choosing 

Words that sound hke water's flow ? 



THE POET. 67 

That the heart its sadness losmg 
Shall its way rejoicing go ? " ■ 

Then the Poet answer giving, 

" Why should I take thought of ye ? 

When in meanness I am living, 
Aye in ahject poverty ! 

What though pleasant lays ye sing me 

Breathing daily in my ear ? 
Money never do ye bring me, 

Money that my life might cheer ! 

Say ye, that a Crown of Glory 

Ye are twining for my brow ? 
'Twill be finished when I'm hoary. 

And within the grave lie low ! 

TJien I caro not what men call me. 

So they help me not in life ! 
Now it matters what befall me, 

While I battle with its strife. 



6S THE POET. 

Ne'er for Critics will I dress ye, 
Their fastidious taste to please ! 

If some heart but read and bless ye, 
If ye give one soul release, 

By your words from sin and sorrow, 
Through your timely w^arning given; 

No more graces ye need 1)orrow — 
Nor I more from hope be riven ! 

Then the Poet's fancies found him 
(jdimpses of a world unseen ! 

Then did Angels flit around him 
With no veil of earth between ! 

What though he Avere poor and lonelj^, 
All uncared for on the earth ; 

Kept from sinking downward only 
By the heaven around his hearth ! 

Still the fire-light brightly gleaming 
On his brow its halo shed ; 

Far away in pleasant dreaming 
Had the Poet's spirit fled ! 



THE TWO "WISHES. G9 



THE TWO WISHES. 



'• Pass me, Time, oh pass me by. 

While youth's bright sun-light gilds my hair I 
^Miile all undimmed my sparkling eye, 

Leave me untouched by sin or care ! " 

Time heard him not, or if ho heard, 
His course he kept, still hurrying on ; 

Once in a "while his cold hands stirred 

The youth's bright locks, and then "was gone. 

But Time returned, and said to him 
" Lo, I "will leave thee now for aye ! 

Thine eye so bright I will not dim. 
Nor on thy hair my fingers lay. 

Thy step so fleet I will not check, 

Thy cheek's warm hue I will not fade ; 



70 THE TWO WISHES. 

Mj^ purposes for once forsake, 

And leave thee fair as tliou wert made ! " 

Then did the youth i-ejoice in strength ! 

Years broudit for him nor chano:c nor bhdit 
Within the future's boundless length 

He saw nor darkness, woe, nor night. 

But fairy forms once like his OAvn, 

Were changing round him night and day ; 

He stood in outward youth alone — 

His friends were palsied, old, and gray ! 

They in the grave were dropping down 
Like the sere leaves in Autumn's blast, 

Till one by one they all had flown — 
And he in unchanged youth the last ! 

Then mournfully his voice rose high ; 

He prayed of Time to change his foim ! 
To bring old age that he might die — 

Besou2;ht him that his lifeblood warm, 



• THE TWO WISHED. 

Which filled hmi still with youth's desires, 
Should fail its mad'ning course to seek ! 

And sorrow's voice, that never tires. 
Still to Time's ear would sadly speak. 

Then Time relenting, said to him, 
" Thy former wish I will revoke ! 

Thy strength shall fail, thine eye grow dim. 
And thou shalt bend beneath the yoke 

Of age ; thy hair shall float the Avind 
Like thistle-down in Autumn's blast — 

No joy on earth thy soul shall find ! 
The insect's song, when flitting past, 

(The grasshopper's,) unto thine ear 
A weary burden shall become ! 

Earth's sweetest sounds thou'lt joyless hear. 
While thy soul longeth for its home ! 



Then nothing more the soul could crave ; 

Gladly he saw his frame decay. 
Feeling that only through the grave 

Could burst a bright Eternity ! ! 



72 THE FACTORY, 



THE FACTORY. 



High rose the massive building in the air, 

Row above row of windows gleaming bright ; 
Th' interior traversed by full many a stair, 
That led us on, Ave scarce knew how or where. 

Like spells of magic, waiting but the word. 

Wheel locked in wheel, the strange machines tliere 
stood ; 
A few in motion, whose loud din was heard. 
Which should replace the music of the bird. 

(As she pursued her work the live long day) 

Unto the ear of some poor country girl. 
Whose heart would wander to the woods avv^ay, 
Where 'neath the wavy trees her dear home lay. 



THE FACTORY. 73 

The sun shall find them busy, as he peeps 

O'er the gray curtain of the misty morn ; 
Drying the dew-drops that the pale Night weeps, 
As like a child on Earth's kind breast she sleeps. 

Year after year shall speed its busy round, 
■And still these strong machines shall Avork the 
same, 
Wlien eyes now bright as stars shall dim be found ! 
And the clear rinmno; laudi, with trembling sound ! 

7 O 

But no more here than elsewhere on the earth. 

Shall earth's weak children grapple with decay ; 
Reaching through Age and Death the spirit's birth. 
Then to be seen, as God now sees their Avorth ! 

7 



74 LINES TO A CENTURY PLANT. 



LINES TO A CENTURY PLANT SEEN IN THE 
FACTORY. 



Strange Plant, that growest here our hearts to 
teach ; 

How many thoughts thou bringest to the soul ! 
Deeper than if thou had'st the poAver of speech, 

Though it were uttered in loud thunder's roll. 

A hundred years must pass e'er thou canst bloom ; 

And the strong man shall bow, and beauty fade, 
And Death's rich harvest fill each waiting tomb 

Upon each green hill's side, or sunny glade. 

A hundred years ! a hundred earthly years — 
How thoughts of joy and anguish cluster round : 

Of smiles soon vanishing, of sorrow's tears, ' 

Of Death's deep silence, and Life's busy sound. 



LINES TO A CENTUKY PLANT. 75 

A Iiundred years and Earth will have grown old ; 

The Eden of her childhood long hath past, 
And golden days so long in faith foretold, 

Will chase the shadows from her face at last. 

A hundred years ! another hundred years — 

Time to Eternity is drawing near ! 
Heaven's hand fond clasping to the Earth's appears. 

And God's kind voice each day is heard more 
clear. 



76 TO THE MUMMIES. 



LINES ADDRESSED TO THE MUMMIES IN THE 
BOSTON MUSEUM. 



Oh what were ye two thousand years ago ? 

AUve to joy and pam as we are now ? 
Did the red blood through these dried bodies flow, 

And the soft hair hang freshly o'er the brow ? 

Did children cluster round these shrunken knees ? 

These wasted hands upon their bright heads rest, 
While they with playful wile did seek to please 

The eyes that watched, the hearts that loved 
them best ? 

Then were these limbs to active labor strung, 
Braving the seasons as man doeth still ? 

While in these ears old Time his changes rung — 
And ye received your meed of good and ill ! 



TO THE MUMMIES. 77 

Affection's hand that did embahn with care, 
Ne'er thought to save ye for a daily sJioiv I 

Else would the earth 'neath her green hillocks bear 
These forms, turned to her likeness long ago ! 

But if the heart grow humble at the sight, 
And fix its love on outward things no more — 

Feeling, the soul, two thousand years make hright, 
While, kept with care, such is the dress it wore I 

Then not in vain did earth give up her child, 
Then not in vain the worm hath lost its prey ! 

If from these faces dry. Truth's Angel smiled, 
And sent us iviser on our earthly way ! 



78 LAMENT OF THE SEAMSTRESS. 



LAMENT OF THE SEAMSTRESS. 



The sun peeps in my window high, 

The climbing flower nods thro' the glass ; 
I hear the tread of children by, 
And merry laughter as they pass ; 
But sun, nor flower, nor laughter cheery, 
Can glad my heart ; I'm weary, Aveary. 

Golden the sun, and Ijlue the sky, 

And sweet the climbing flower's perfume ; 
While life's best hours are speeding by 
Within the walls of this small room. 
As well for me might earth be dreary ! 
I see no beauty — I am weary ! 

The arms of Toil are round me thrown. 
Stronger the clasp becomes each day : 



LAMENT OF THE SEAMSTRESS. 79 

And mid a world of -wealth, I own 
No portion to support mj clay ! 
Oh may Death bring a life less dreary, 
And I no more be sad, and weary ! 



80 THE CABINET-MAKER. 



THE CABINET-MAKER. 



Within a low-built room, busy at work, 

There stood a tall old man. Around the walls 

His instruments of labor hung, Avhile heaps 

Of shavings, saw-dust, chips, bestrewed the floor. 

His long gray locks waved o'er his dark sunk eyes 

As he bent o'er his work ; it was a cradle. 

Around his mouth lingered a happy smile, 

As in his heart thoughts of its office formed ; 

And his quick mind already in it saw 

The smiling babe, heard its friends praising loud 

Its bright blue eyes, kissing its rosy lips. 

It was a day-dream ; and it brought to mind 

His youth, and Mera'ry wove up pleasant spells 

Till it was finished. Then he worked upon 

A coffin ; and his thoughts changed with his work : 

And e'en a tear-drop came from his sunk eye. 

As his sad heart brought up her image fair 

"Who loved him in his youth, and who reposed 



THE CABINET-MAKER. 81 

In such a house as this ! He was not one 

Of those -who -work mechanically, who 

EA'en in a suffering mortal behold 

But a machine that needs rej airs, and handle 

Broken hmbs, as one -would mend an arm-chair, 

But his spirit wrought even as his hands ! 

His work was done ; and there together lay * 

Coffin and cradle ! Then he left the shop. 

And if an Angel ever visits earth, 

(And who does not believe it in his heart ?) 

One entered in that shop. He paused 

Beside those emblems of the two extremes 

Of Life, and over which think you he shed 

A tear ? O'er the coffin ? I tell you nay. 

Into the cradle's head soft fell the tear 

Dropping from Angel eyes. To him revealed 

Was the young soul which should abide therein, 

With its unconsciousness of ev'ry ill. 

Its utter helplessness, its sorrows yet 

To come, its longings never satisfied 

On earth ! If thou had'st thought of these thou had'st 

Not marvelled that the Aniiers tear fell there ! ! 



82 AN ANECDOTE. 



AN ANECDOTE. 



She was a mute, and deaf. Nature's music 
Into her tuneless ear had never found 
Its way. Yet she had loved ; for love depends 
Not on the senses but the soul ! By signs 
The voiceless one was wedded. If the heart 
But forms the vow, all words are useless. 
A child was granted her : and placed around 
Her were attendants, who watched her ever 
To see she did the smiling babe no harm. 
One day the mather sat beside her child ; 
She seemed to satisfy herself his sleep 
Was real, that his blue eyes were fairly shut : 
When to the horror of the nurse and those 
Around, she took a heavy stone that lay 
Within the corner of the room, and crept 
Towards the small cradle that contained the babe ; 
Holding the stone on high, she threw it down, 



AX AXECDOTE. 83 

Not on th' unconscious babe, but on tlie floor ! 
It made a startling noise ! the child awoke 
And cried ! the mother then knew it possessed 
The sense which she had not ! 



84 THE BERRY WOMAN. 



THE BERRY WOMAN. 



A RUSSET tint is on the forest trees, 

As though the dark brown earth reflection gave 
To that which bent above it ; and the breeze 

Shakes down the ripe nuts as the branches Avave, 
And rippling forth their " bird caught " melodies, 

Round, mossy, flower-crowned banks bright stream- 
lets lave. 



But who is she that goeth bending low ? 

A faint red hue is on her withered cheek ; 
The zephyrs dally with her locks of snow. 

Kissing the fringes of her blue eyes meek ; 
Bowed is her form, her step is feeble, slow. 

Her shrivelled hands amid the bushes seek. 

For well known herbs familiar to her gaze ; 
Or strip from out its matted, piny bed. 



THE BERRY WOMAX. 8-3 

As there it lies in tangled, shining maze, 
The bitter meshes of the Golden Thread ; 

And when groAv pale the sun's declining rajs 
Towards her home she turns her weary tread. 

Or view her as she goes from door to door — 
A league or more her feel)le feet have sped ! 

There meekly proffering her hard earned store, 
Which shall procure the morrow's scanty liread ; 

Her low priced fruit many would seek to lower — 
As though Humanity's last spark were dead ! 

Yon pale-faced clerk who lounges o'er the way 
Would swoon should he attempt her daily walk ! 

While the old fop, whose wig disguises gray, 
Terms her, a withered flower upon life's stalk ; 

But gath'ring round his face the wrinkles sj^,, 
Art hath not learned as yet Decay to XAoek t 

It is her hand that knocketh at the doo]^^ 
Ere from her sleep the city lady turns- — ^^ 

And though her age exceeds t€n and three score. 
Still by her brow's tliio-k sweat her bread sh( 
earns ! 



86 THE BERRY WOMAN. 

Her cross is heavy as the martyrs bore — 

And flick'ring unto death her life's lamp she burns ! 

Behold her helpless, racked with sharpest pain, 
Caught from the damps upspringing in the wood ; 

Born of the toils that never brought her gain ! 

And (shame to beaters-down) scarce ga^'e her 
food ! 

Her life hath teachings for the worldling vain ! 
Idlers, and those o'er fancied woes avIio brood ! 



CUPID AND DEATH. 87 



CUPID AND DEATH. 
(ax old fable versified.) 



Cupid Avith liis golden curls 
Loosened bj the sultiy sun, 

Cheeks as fair as any girl's. 

Flushed and blooming -with his run, 

Wear J, almost out of Ijreath, 

Entered the cool cave of Death ; 

There upon a verdant bed 
Cupid flung himself to rest ; 

Whore the moss its green couch spread, 
Cupid's white limbs softly prest : 

And hke golden fret-work there 

Lay the curls of Cupid's hair. 

'Neath his head his quiver fell ; 
While his arrows scattered round 



CUPID AND DEATH. 

Mixed with Death's (oh, sad to tell !) 

That were lying on the ground ; 
And" when Cupid rose to go, 
His from Death's he did not know ! 

This is why we now and then 

See the young by Death laid low ; 

While Love pierceth aged men 
With his arrows as they go ! 

Thus young Cupid's sad mistake 

Did of Life a medley make ! 



RAIN-DROPS. 89 



RAIN-DROPS. 



A TROOP of summer elves, 

A band of rain-drops fair, 
Fallino- from lieaven''s shelves 
Came weeping through the air ; 
Sighing to leave their parent clouds above, 
While hag(;3ning earthward to their tasks thej rove. 

But soon those tasks were done ; 

And from the land and sea 
Recalled home by the sun. 
They met so pleasantly. 
And, gathered round their parent clouds once more, 
With tuneful patter told their travels o'er. 

" I," said a dashing sprite, 

" Have washed the windows clean 
Of an old woman's house, 

8* 



90 RAIN-DROPS. 

Where light was seldom seen ; 
I took some panes to do this it is true, 
But of her queer old face I had a vie^Y." 

" I," said a sparkling elf, 

" Have washed the flower-cups clean ; 
Upon each fairy's shelf. 
They ail look nice, I ween. 
Queen Mab is soon to have a splendid feast ; 
She might have sent a card to me at least ! " 

" I," said a dandy drop, 

Fell in a water butt, 
Which a hard working maid 
To catch me there had put ! 
She thought to make me help her wash her clothes ; 
But showing her light heels, I quickly rose." 

" Upon the farmer's ears, 

I," said another, " fell, 
Gladly, as when he hears 

The sweet toned sabbath bell ! 



RAIN-DBOPS. 91 

I with my brothers raised his drooping grain, 
And washed his orchard's fruits from ev'ry stain ! " 

"I," said another, " flew 

The rainbow's arch to form, 
Where fled retreating through 
The whirhyind and the storm ! 
There stood we drops by milhons in array. 
While the sun's golden beams about us lay ! " 

" I," said a glitt'ring drop, 

" Did form a mirror bright. 
Where butterflies can stop 
And drink as they ahght ; 
I sprinkled o'er the spider's tissue fair. 
And left a thousand sparkling diamonds there ! " 

But while these tales went round, 

Sharp light'nings o'er them played, 
And thunders' awful sound 
The drops all trembling made ! 
iVnd to the earth they fled in many showers. 
And hid themselves in grain, grass, leaves and flow- 
ers ! 



92 THE HILLS ROUND SALExM TURNPIKE. 



THE HILLS ROUND SALEM TURNPIKE. 



The old road stretches far away 
For many a long and weary mile, 

Where hops the Robin day by day, 
On the gray wall or old turn-stile ; 

And merry children careless stray 

To pluck the flowers by the way. 

Its well known haunts to mem'ry dear, 

By sunny hill, and shady nook, 
Where childhood slaked in waters clear 

Its thirst beside the running brook ; 
Those well known haunts unchanged appear ; 
The trees, the rocks, the moss, are here. 

But voices sweet, and laughing eyes. 
And clasping fingers, all are gone ! 
Like the bright tints of sunset skies 



THE HILLS ROUND SALEM TURNPIKE. 93 

Which we have loved to gaze upon. 
Mem'ry alone the loss supplies, 
And gives us what the scene denies. 

'Twas here the Catbird's mournful cry 
Told of the cherished pet at home ; 

Here did the bright red berries lie, 
To speckle o'er the Avhite milk's foam ; 

Here always seemed the bluest sky, 

And came the coolest breezes by. 

And now farewell each glade and hill ! 

The heart must be mdeed grown cold, 
When sight of you brings not the thrill 

The bosom felt in days of old ! 
If true to nature, nature still 
Is fresh as when Earth's page unrolled ! 



94 EUTHANDSIA. 



I 



EUTHANDSIA. 

" Then they saw the univalcing sleep was upon them, and said 
she died amid pleasant dreams ! " 

Still she sat in her high backed chair, 

Her head rechned upon her breast ; 
Morning found as eve left her there, 

Where she had sat her do^Yn to rest ; 
The wind stole in and waved her hair. 

The l)ird sang loudly from her nest 
On the sweet brier, and the air 

Swept in the scent she loved the best. 

The birds' sweet song awoke her not ; 

Its melody was all unheard ! 
The morning breeze witli fragrance fraught 

E'en at its will her white locks stirred ! 
Neighbors gathered around the spot, 

Missing her form who with the bird 
Rose, rambled rovmd her flower screened cot. 

Above all other walks preferred. 



EUTHAXDSIA. 95 

They saw her closed eyes and said 

Th' unwaking sleep had rested there ! 
They gather'd round Avith solemn tread 

And bore her from her easy chair. 
No tears for that lone one they shed, 

No more earth's daily ills to bear ; 
Her soul in pleasant dreams had fled ! 

Could Death a milder aspect wear ? 

Thus died that lonely aged one, 

Without a pain, Avithout a tear. 
Ending in Heaven the dream begun 

On Earth. Is sleep to death so near ? 
Oh then with every setting sun 

With God be ready to appear ! 
So shall the Spirit's work be done, 

And Death be viewed without a fear ! 



96 death's visit. 



DEATH'S VISIT. 



Death knocked at the rich man's gate ! 
'Twas loud, for he could not -wait. 
The servant dared not tell hhn nay, 
As through the house he took his way. 

Death stood at the rich man's bed, 
And thus unto him he said, 
" Thou hast a long journey to go. 
Get thee ready, 'be not slow ! " 

Then the rich man gathered there 
Bags of gold, and jewels rare. 
And the deed of his large estate ; 
Hurrying, for Death could not wait ! 

Death said, " these you'll leave behind ! 
No more use for them you'll find ! 



death's visit. 97 

But something on the way thou'lt need, 
Then get it ready now with speed ! " 

He called his family there, 

His babe with the golden hair, 

His bright boy, and his blue-eyed wife ; 

Those whom he lov'd as he lov'd life. 

Death said, " now with these you part ! 
Something else before you start 
You may select to take away ! " 
The rich man sought his library. 

And book laden he returned. 
Books in which true Genius burned. 
But Death said, " you can take alone 
Knowledge that you have made your own ! " 

A ring was heard at the gate, 
Where a crowd of beggars wait 
To bless the hand that gave them food ! 
And there with grateful hearts they stood ! 
9 



98 death's visit. 

Said Death, " you may take their prayers ! 
The thought of less'ning their cares ! 
All the tears you have wiped away ! 
These will cheer you onward to-day ! " 



PARTED, BUT NOT FOREVER. 99 



PARTED, BUT NOT FOREVER. 



When" evening shadows round the hearth, 

And o'er my heart are stealing, 
AVhen hushed are sounds of joy and mirth, 

And darkness brings reveahng 
Of thoughts for which day had no room. 

Of ties Death came to sever ; 
Sweet voices say, amid the gloom, 

Parted, but not forever. 

They seem to say. Death led us on, 

Dim was the grave's low portal, 
But in a moment earth was gone — 

And we became immortal ! 
They seem to say, for joys of earth 

Our souls have thirsted never — 
Earth's homes shall gather round God's hearth, 

Parted, but not forever ! 



100 PARTED, BUT NOT FOREVER. 

They seem to say, we know no death, 

Nor pain, nor crushing sorrow. 
No sundered love, no parting breath, 

No tears, no sad to-morrow ! 
Earth-hfe seems to us but a day — 

Short conflict life's endeavor ! 
(Night falls ;) and still they seem to say, 

Parted, but not forever ! 



GRAVE FLOWERS. 101 



GRAVE FLOWERS. 

" A little sod, a few sad flowers, 
A tear for long departed hours, 
Are all that feeling hearts request 
To hush their weary thoughts to rest." 

A FEW sad flowers said'st thou ? 

Let them not all be sad, 
Like white-robed mourners bending low, 

With nothing cheerful, glad, 
But flowers the dead loved best ! 

E'en though their colors be 
More bright than thoughts that fill the breast 

Of weak mortality ! 

Their colors shall impart 

Heaven's glory to the tomb. 
Nor send pale sadness through the heart 

Already filled with gloom : 
They shall look up and say, 

The seed in weakness sown 
9* 



102 GRAVE FLOWERS. 

Is risen in beauty from its clay — 
Nearer to God has grown ! 

Their fragrance shall uprise 

Through storms and beating rain ; 
So grief brings forth sweet memories, 

The dead shall rise again ! 
Nearer perchance than hfe 

Around the home to be ! 
To bring like Angels 'mid its strife 

Their immortality ! 

A few sad flowers said'st thou ? 

Let them not all be sad, 
Like white-robed mourners bending low, 

With nothing cheerful, glad, 
But flowers the dead loved best ! 

E'en though their colors be 
More bright than thoughts that fill the breast 

Of weak mortality ! 



THE grave's to-morrow. 103 



THE GRAVE'S TO-MORKOW. 

" And the Grave shall have its to-morrow ! " 

Life's Spring-Buds how the heart doth cherish, 

Seeking to shield from frost and wind ; 
But cared for ever, still they perish — 
Life's fragile chahi Love cannot bind ! 
But now a voice doth steal upon our sorrow, 
Whispering thus, " the Grave hath its to-morrow ! " 

The Flowers of Life, whose fragrance ever 

(Childliood's low prayer,) ascends to God, 
Death stretches forth his hand to sever 
From parent stalk and earthly sod ! 
But still a voice doth come to soothe life's sorroAv, 
Whispering thus, " the Grave hath its to-morrow ! " 

When Time (his breath the wind,) is sending 
Autumn's ripe fruit in clusters down, 



104 THE grave's to-morrow. 

And to the Reaper's sickle bending 
The grain doth yiekl its goklen crown, 
When for our Father's garner Death doth borrow, 
The voice still saitli, " the Grave hath its to-mor- 



roAV 



! " 



GRAVES. 105 



GKAVES. 



Where the grass the greenest lingers, 
Wliere the spring with busy fingers 

First unfolds each bud and flower, 
There should be the grave of childhood ; 
In the bright and sunnj wild-wood, 

Where the bird sings hour by hour ! 

Wliere the saphng tall and slender 
Lifts to heaven its form so tender, 

Bowing meekly to the wind. 
There should youth in death be lying ; 
Where flowers leave (as it in dying 

Leaves its mem'ry) sweets behind. 

Where the oak in tow'rlng glory 

Looks upon the landscape hoary. 

Fearless of the winter's blast, 



106 GRAVES. 

There should manhood meet its slumber 
With a host but death can number 
In the present or the past. 

Where the golden grain is shinmg, 
And the fruit-trees thickly lining 

Drop their burdens to the ground, 
There should age, its joiirney ended, 
Calmly be with nature blended 

As the year speeds swiftly round ! 



" MISERRIMUS." 107 



« mSERRIMUS." 

'• Ou a grave stone in Worcester, England, is this emphatic 
inscription, with neither name nor date, comment nor text." 

Thou Imst a refuge found, most -wretched, here, 
Mid the low mminur of the breeze-stirred leaves ; 

Near the cool streamlet Avhose quick rijjples clear 
Water the flowers where the spider Aveaves 

His treacherous web across from leaf to spray ; 

Like the world's snares that led thy soul astray ! 

And here thy wretchedness must surely cease 
In the calm quiet of tliis holy ground ; 

Where ev'ry blossom seems to whisper peace. 
And sharp contention's strife is never fomid. 

Where from the graves low voices seem to rise 

To tell of rest the heartless world denies. 

What made thy misery ? Ambition crushed, 
High hopes laid low, and glory unattained ? 



108 " MISERRIMUS." 

Th' extlnguisliing of high-born thoughts that gush'd 

Forth from thy heart ? till not a wish remained 
To live for anything earth could afford, 
Or bring to light feelings witlihi thee stored ? 

Or was it want of Sympathy in those 

Who should have echoed back thine ev'ry thought ? 
E'en a-s the placid stream reflects the rose 

Low beniing o'er it in the Avoodland grot. 
Walking the earth unknowing and unknown ! 
" With, and not of men," " in a crowd alone I " 

Or did stern Poverty with chilling bhght, 

Chng round thee ever mid the cold w^orld's sneers, 

Making thee long for darkness and for night. 
Amidst the fallings of thy scalding tears ? 

And when the night its mantle round thee spread 

Had'st thou like Him no place to lay thy head ? 

Was thy weak body racked with ceaseless pain 
Which bade thee restless ever tossing keep ? 
Without a hope that health would come again 



" MISERRIMUS." 109 

And Avitli its color fill tliy pale, wan cheek ? 
Until from suff 'ring death thy spirit stole, 
And earth's most wretched is Heaven's happicsi; 
soul. 

10 



110 STANZAS. 



STANZAS. 

" Coffin — the cradle in which our second childhood is laid to 
sleep." 

Not as in infancy, 

When we in sleep repose 
Each dimpled limb careless and free, 
When soft the blue eyes close, 
Within our second cradle lie we down, 
When the bright spirit to its place hath flown. 

But ev'ry limb in place, 

Hand-closed the cold dull eye ; 
Expressionless the pale still face ; 
Smoothly the hair put by. 
No restless movement breaks the sleep of Death, 
No soft in-drawing of the easy breath. 

Who heeds the calyx dry 
That looks upon the flower ? 



STANZAS. Ill 

Or caretli where the cone may lie, 
If in the garden bower 
The butterfly hath flown ? Care not to see 
The body, if the immortal soul is free. 



112 MEMORY. 



MIJMORY. 

Come J talk awhile "\ritli memorj ; 

A pleasant light is in her eje, 

As still she speaks of clays gone by. 

On her brown hair a halo plays, 
The golden light of other clays ; 
From early time bright sunny rays. 

While in her voice a dreaminess, 
A half reproach, half tenderness. 
That seems to chide and yet to bless ; 

Telling of things that come no more ; 
But which the Soul Avill not give o'er. 
Counting them treasures as before. 

Telling of youth, of new-found joy, 
All after years cannot destroy, 
Making tlie man still seem the boy ! 



MEMORY. IIB 

Tlio friends of early days here meet, 
Witliin her house their vows repeat, 
With kindly voice and smile still greet ! 

Around her walls our loved ones dear, 
Dying, have left their semblance here, 
Death's wounds to heal, sad lives to cheer ! 

Thou who hast laid thy babe to rest, 

Upon his cheek thy last kiss prest, 

Lo ! he still sleeps on memory's breast ! 

See the bright wavelets of his hair ; 
His meek blue eyes half closing there ; 
The veins that line his forehead fair ; 

His dimpled fingers clasp thine own — 
He wakes ! you hear his merry tone ! 
From memory's house he is not gone. 

Thou who hast seen thy mother di c 
She left for thee, with memory, 
A holy, precious legacy ! 
10* 



114 MEMORY. 

And still ill the accustomed place, 
The evening lamj) beams on her face, 
And love for thee it seems to trace ! 

Although no life is blameless, free 
From earthly sin and misery. 
Wo would not part with memory ; 

For like an aged person's story 
She robes the bj'gone years in glory, 
As fresh grown moss decks ruins hoary. 

Then talk awhile with memory ; 

A pleasant light is in her eye. 

As still she speaks of days gone by ; 

Telling of things that come no more — 
But which the soul will not give o'er. 
Countins; them treasures as before ! 



MEMORY. 115 



MEMORY. 

'•'Tis in the morning tliat tlic Clmcli-yard of Memory gives np 
its dead." 

Let tliem rise from the heart's tomb ; 
Spirits not of sadness, gloom, 
White-robed tho't? of Childhood's truth. 
Cherished hopes that filled our youth. 

Let them rise, a shining band 

Coming from the Spirit Land. 

Let them rise ! each well known face, 

Where so oft we loved to trace 

Smiles that beamed for us alone. 

Eyes o'er which Death's veil was thrown. 
Let them gather rovmd our bed 
All unheard their noiseless tread ! 



Let their eyes of love still speak, 
Let their breath be on our che:k ; 



116 MEMORY. 

And their voices in our ear 
Murmur words we loved to hear. 

Let their spirits fair and bright 

Visit us at morning light. 

Death, who cometh thief-like, still, 
Taking life's bright gems at will, 
With us early, with us late, 
Making hearth-stones desolate. 
Death, who visits all Life's bowers, 
Cannot gather Mem'rj's flowers ! 



THE OLD man's THOUGHTS, 117 



THE OLD MAN'S THOUGHTS. 



'TwAS bitter cold, an old man Avalked 
Through tlie streets of a crowded mart ; 

As he went, he chattered and talked 
From simple thoughts within his heart. 

" Oh cruel Avind, why piei'ce me through 

With icy blasts like daggers cold ? 
To keep me warm my clothes arc few, 

And I am very, very old." 

The wind replied, " I play with thee 
As I would play with an old dry leaf ; 

To make it mourn for its parent tree ; 
And you for repose from all your grief." 

He murmured again, *' dropping rain, 

"Why soak my garments through and through ? 



118 THE OLD man's THOUGHTS. 

You make my limbs all aclie with pain ; 
Have you not something else to do ? " 

The rain replied, " I do it for this — 

To make you yearn for a home in heaven, 

Where sorrow comes not ; but perfect bliss 
Remains for those once tempest driven ! " 

He murmured again, " falling snow. 
My locks are Avhite Avithout your aid, 

Are there men as old, do you know. 

As I, in heaven; from whence you strayed ? " 

And the flakes replied, " around is heaven ; 

But it knoAYS nor old nor young, as earth ; 
There bands of sin from souls are riven, 

And age begins at Second Birth." 

Then the old man said, " I know its truth, 
For I am near the heavenly goal ; 

I shall feel again as in youth 

At the Second Birth of my soul." 



MY FRIEND. 119 



MY FRIEND. 



Where is my friend ? I vainlj said, 
For Death had taken her from view ; 

But the sky answered overhead, 

" Behold her eyes in tliis deep blue ! " 

And smiling sunbeams glided by 
As if a message glad to bear, 

Saying, " look on us as Ave lie. 
As golden as her shining hair ! " 

And through the open window near 
Two blushing roses then did speak. 

Saying, " her breath still lingers here — 
In us behold her blooming check ! " 

While timeful birds with warblings sweet, 
" Her voice is with us," seemed to say, 



120 MY FRIEND. 

As my charmed ear tliey come to greet 
AYith untaught song each summer day I 

The cloud that floats the evening sky 
A spotless letter seems to come, 

From where she dwells, (Eternity,) 
Telling my spirit of her hom-C. 

Oh, Death can never break the spells 
That friendship wove around my heart - 

Each thing she loved a message tells. 
And of her mem'ry forms a part ! 



OLD AGE. 121 



OLD AGE. 



Welcome, Okl Age ! s\Yect sabbath of our life ! 
When are forgot each worldly care and strife ; 
When thoughts of what we may be move us not - 
By whom once cherished or by whom forgot. 
When through the vista of receding years 
Each earthly trial slowly disappears, 
And, as the spirit nears its heavenly home, 
Foreshadowings of a blest existence come ! 
And like a wearied child we fain would lay 
Ourselves on earth's green lap and pass away.' 
Th' unconscious infant that we scarcely knew, 
Whose mem'rics like its wants were simple, few, 
The buoyant child whose life eternal seemed. 
Who of a golden future ever dreamed — 
Manhood with all life's sins and sorroAvs learned. 
Who for a quiet rest full oft hath yearned ; 
All these have found, 0, peaceful Age, in thee, 
11 



122 OLD ACE. 

From busy toil and strife a respite free ! 
AYhen Time jr^arts softly cloAvn the silver hair, 
And on the car as by some fost'ring care 
Earth's sounds of dissonance grow faint and Ioav, 
As gently ends our pilgrimage below. 
But when alas stern poverty is ours, 
And want's red thorns mix with life's Autumn flowers 
When through the streets a sustenance is souglit, 
(Jr in the home slow needle-work is wrought ; 
When toil plants furrows on the once fair brow. 
And dim eyes see to work they know not how ! 
When weakened limbs turn feebly to the grave. 
Bent by the toil that competence ne'er gave ! 
Ah then old age a saddened picture shows — 
And hard his heart vidio ne'er with pity glows, 
Nor from his fullness quick relief bestows. 
Ov when old a2:e in loneliness is left — 
Of parents, children, all love's ties bereft ! 
When the old Jiouse alons doth seem a friend ! 
And voiceless sympathy but old trees lend. 
Beating the storms out on the timo-staincd roof. 
Still near v/hen earthly friendship stands aloof; 



OLD AGE. 123 

When Death doth seem unmindful of decav, 
Thoudi siiirits irone before oft show the wav. 
And voices murmur on the lone one's ear 
The welcome summons that ho fain Avould hear r 
Then too old age a saddened picture shoAvs, 
As down life's hill alone he treinliling goes I 
But when the vices of oiir youth remain. 
And palsied age cares y\ot to break tlie chain. 
Hugging the fetters it through life hath riven, 
Neanng the grave but wand'ring far from heaven. 
'Tis then old age the saddest picture shovr'S I 
And like a landscape that doth Avant repose, 
Dark, gloomy clouds o'crcast the m)mMfid sjy.io. 
While sunshine hangs no golden fringe between — 
And Hope with drooping wing scarce dares to show 
Up-on the dai'kened skj', a faint, pale bow ! 
But when old age from youth and folly turned. 
Alike the lures and aims of earth hath spurned : 
Nor owes its wealth to treach'ry and deceit — 
Nor wears religion as a mask to cheat — 
Whose children rise aroimd to call him blest. 
Whose temperance still for earthly joys hath zest. 



124 OLD AGE. 

Who holds his head in honest pride erect, 
Winning from all the tribute of respect ; 
Who looks on Death, as Life's last gentle friend 
Coming to loose its cord, hut nof to rend — 
Then welcome Age ! sweet sabbath of our life ! 
When are forgot each worldly care and strife ; 
When thoughts of what we may be move us not 
By whom once cherished, or bj whom forgot — 
When, through the vista of receding years. 
Each earthly trial slowly disappears ; 
And, as the spirit nears its heavenly home, 
Foreshadowings of a blest existence come. 
And like a wearied child we fain would lay 
Ourselves on earth's green lap, and pass aAvay ! 



AN OLD MAN'.S SOLILOQIY, 12;") 



AX OLD MAN'S SOLILOQUY. 



'TwAS long ago, avIicu Love and ] 
. Together vralked adown life's lane : 
The sweet, vald ro;-;e hung blessonang hv. 
And over mc the same blue slcy 
Seems arching yet again ! 

The birds with twit' ring note around 

^Vere warbling what we might not spcal< 
Nor in the hedgerow's blush was found, 
With summer's la\ islied bloom around, 
A tint so fair as wore her cheek : 

But Time Avas gazing coldlv then — 

And saving, though we heard him not, 
'' I bring you age and trials, when 
Life's early dream comas not again. 

With hearts estranged, and vows forgot 1 
11* 



126 AN OLD man's soliloquy. 

Mistaken Time ! tliat thouglit to deal 

With souls as "with the outward world ; 
As from the rose its blush, to steal 
The awak'ning jojs our hearts first feel, 
To be forever from us hurled. 

Though in the grave they laid her low. 

And o'er her beats the sunmier rain — 
My thoughts like breezes round her go. 
Like flowers my dream-like visions glow, 
And we together meet agahi ! 

'Tis long ago since Love and I 

Together walked adown life's lane, 
But still in childish beauty nigh 
She gazes with her soft, blue eye, 
As we together meet again ! 



A child's soul to its body. 127 



THE ADDRESS OF A CHILD'S SOUL TO ITS 
BODY, ON LEAVING IT ! 

" How wishfully she looks 
On all she's leaving, r.ov no longer hers." 

Body, farewell ! 
I may no more from those blue eyes look out, 
Nor through the red lips send the merry shout 

Like clear- toned bell. 

Nor can I more 
Earth's summer flowers with those small fingers 

grasp. 
Nor round my mother's neck those white arms clasp ; 
Nor through the door. 

With play intent. 
Will thought of mine e'er send those tiny feet, 
Nor form of mine my little play-mates greet. 

'Twas only lent 



128 A child's soul to its body. 

To mc by God I 
Life brought it to mc, and Death takes it new : 
Witliiu the nuvroAY grave he"!! hiv it low. 

Beneath the sod ! 

I fear 'tis not 
As bright and fair as when 'twas lent to me. 
But that the Lender will uj.on it see 

Some mark or spot. 

jMv mother weeps. 
Not knowing that her child still lingers near ; 
Beside the form pride made in life too dear. 

She fon'^^ly keeps. 

Body, fore well ! 
Within thcc I have felt both joy and pain : 
I would not if I might return again 

In thee to dwell ! 

To God I go! 
To Jesus, who will take me in his arms I 
Secure from grief, distress, and earthly harms, 

True bliss to know ! 



THOUGHTS OF YOUTH. 129 



THOUGHTS OF YOUTH. 



Oh linger, linger still, sweet tliouglits of youth. 
Sending, likes pring-buds culled in earl/ time, 

A fragrance forth of Innocence and Truth, 

Those pure white flowers of childhood's holier 
clime. 



Oh linger, linger still around niv heart. 

Casting jour sunshine o'er my later years ! 

Let not with youth its memories depart. 
Its gushing laughter, or its fretiuent tears. 



Oh may the soul still wander careless, free, 
Amid the wildwood of its early dreams ! 

Recall the time when 'twas a joy to be I 

And see through bygone years creation's beams. 



loO TIIOUiillTS OF YOlTir. 

The briglit creation that our cliiltlhood knew. 
When tlie eve gazed on all, and called it gcod ; 

When the swift hours on golden pinions flew, 
Nor one dark shadow in our pathway stood. 

And Avhon tlio soul forth from tlic sliore of deatli 
Unfurls its lone, strange sail, and steers for 
Heaven ; 

^lav kindly airs from angel children's 1)reath 
To fill that lone, strange sail l)e freely given. 

jMay pleasant memories of olden days, 

I.ikc fjir-flown birds, vtith the lone voyager rest ; 
Till on his sight shall break Heaven's brightest rays, 

And earth's lo3t son be welcomed with the Blest ! 



TilE FIRST AND LAST WORD. 101 



THE FIRST AND LAST WORD. 



'Tvv'AS the first Avord tlic ba})e had S:ohcn ; 

Forth from his small red 11} s it treiahliug came ; 
Scavcolv a word it s^emod, half uttered, broken, 

Although its hearers gave to it the name. 

The spell of infant silence breaking. 

Came the word llother to their list'ning cars : 

Pains to be understood the soul was taking, 
It soon would tsll aloud its hopes and fears. 

Another charm unto its graces, 

Wa; aided in the utt' ranee of tliat vrord ; 

Tlie fumilv were there v/itli happy faces, 

And the deep feelings of their hearts vrerc stirred. 

The scene is changed ! around tlie dring 
A family are bending in their grief — 

Awaiting death an aged man is lying. 

His hours on earth are numbered, they are brief. 



132 THE FIRST AND LAST WORD. 

For the last word that he shall utter, 

With eager hope they bend the list'ning ear ; 

Ere motion leaves the heart with a faint flutter, 
And the quick breath proclaims that death is 
near. 

He speaks ! oh, list to that he sayeth. 

For the last word thro' those pale lips shall come ; 
Again thro' childhood's days in tho't he strayeth, 

And his last dream is of his childhood's home. 

He speaketh, and the dear word Mother 

Comes forth from lips, that ne'er shall move again ; 

Thou art immortal. Love ! death can but smother 
Thy flame which burns undimmcd thro' want and 
pain. 

Angels shall keep it burning ever 

In the bright Avorld, towards which our footsteps 
tend ; 
Like Vestal's lamp it shall give light forever, 

And o'er a happy throng its bright rays send. 



TO AN iXFAXT. 133 



TO AN INFANT. 



Come in, little cliiW, whose face peeps through, 
So lovingly through Life's door ; — 

Long we have listened and waited for jou, 
But watching we are no more. 



This grand old earth has been forming for you 
For thousands of long, long years ! 

And for ages the light has travelled, to view 
Itself in thy falling tears. 



The fields of earth have blossomed and smiled. 

And tireless they still bloom on, 
An Eden now to the undefiled — 

But the Tree of Life is gone ! 
12 



134 TO AN INFANT. 

The earth is shadoAved, but thou art bright- 
The thoughts of thy soul awake, 

In the morning hght of thy rising sun 
To their ncAv-found tasks they take. 

0, Avhcn tliy sun shall be sinking low — 
And Eve's lengthened shadows fall — 

When a weary Pilgrim thou shalt go 
To the world that waiteth all, — 

May hearts as kindly receive thee there 
As welcomed thine earthly birth ! 

And angel voices the chorus bear, 

Joy in Heaven, though grief on Earth ! 



THE DEATH-BED. 



135 



THE DEATH-BED. 



Dying, an old man lay ; 
The sun's last rosy ray 

Was in the west. 
No struggle was seen there, 
A smile like halo fair 

Proclaimed him blest. 

Around his long life's hours 
Shaded like summer flowers 

Were flying fast ; 
One Lily-like appears 
Holding his childhood's tears ; 

Sorrows long }:ast. 

Others like Daisies' eyes, 
Some blue as cloudless skies, 
Came smiling bv ; 



136 THE DEATII-EED. 

Times when his spirit young, 
Gay as a wild bird sung, 
Right merrily. 

And sadder hours Avere there 
Filled with the seeds of care 

And bitterness ; 
"When though lone, forsaken, 
His soul's faith unshaken 

God still could bless. 



The Hours the silence broke. 
And thus to him they spoke — 

Oh, what wouldst thou 
Give, couldst thou stay our flight ! 
For men Avill heap this night 

Dust on tliy brow ! 

In youth thou bad'st us fly. 
To bring in passing by 

Thy manhood on ; 



THE DEATII-EED. 137 

No sooner was it l)rougUt 
Than Age, uncalled, unsought, 
Came, and 'twas gone ! 

Then the sad Hours drew near ; 
Wouldst thou not joy to hear 

We iniglit return ? 
Wouldst thou not joy to weep ? 
Bost thou not dread Death's sleep, 

And for life yearn ? 

The Djdng heard them all. 
But heeded not the call ; 

They passed away. 
Hours, gold Eternals bright, 
AYcre bringing to his sight 
Eternity ! 
12* 



138 DEATH AND THE 310THER. 



DEATH AND THE MOTHER. 



Death to the mother said, 

" Thou can'st not keep the babj still, let me ! 

Thou mark'st with pain his gasping, feverish breath ; 

With one long kiss I set it free, 

And on his brow, the signet write 

Of immortality ! ( ^ /' 

Oft thou dost strive to lay / '' 

In smoothness down his golden hair ; let me ! 

Smoother, beneath thy touch, 'twill never be — 

Nor look more bright and fair ! 

Nay, weep not, that his toilet I would make, 

Closing like violet, up his eye of 1 )luc ; 

For know'st thou not, earth-flowers as frail as this 

Were better closed against life's chilling dew ? 

The sheet no more thou'lt fold, 

Above his dimpled limbs over and o'er ; 

So statue-like, inanimate and cold, 



DEATU AND THE MOTHER. . 139 

They ■will lie bare no more ! 

The Form that holds thy baby to His breast, 

Thou wilt not look to see ! 

Nor hear'st the soft voice breaking through his rest, 

' Suffer the httle one to come to Me ! ' 

Else thou and I would soon be reconciled, 

No more thy tears would flow — 

But thou would'st bless me that I bear thy child 

Forth from a life of woe ; 

To One unbiased by a mother's love 

Or mother's fears, to bring him up ! 

Perchance to aid tli.ee ^^•hen thou goest above ! 

Then push not from thee still, the sweet, sad cup ! " 



140 " OUR MOTHER FELL ASLEEP." 



<' OUR MOTHER FELL ASLEEP, NOV. 13, 1841. 

When will the morning come ? " 

{Epitaph on a Gravestone in Ilinjlrim. 

Our mother slept! 'twas not the soothmg rest 
When round the curtained room with voices low 

We softlj trod ; pulseless within her breast 
The heart that throbhcd for us is lying lov,' ! 



Our mother slept ! closed is the calm, mild eve, 
That kindled at our wrongs or wept our grief ; 

Or through night watches, long and silently 
AVaited the hour that brought our pains relief! 



Our mother slept ! the ear must strive in vain 
To catch her kindly tone, her warning word — 

Yet mcm'ry's echo still the sweet refrain 

Will sing, aud still our hearts by it be stirred ! 



" OUR MOTHER FELL ASLEEP." 141 

Oh Father, when, when -will the inornmg come ? 

Bringhig its hcahng to our wounded souls — 
Bringhig the sunshine fled our earthly home — 

Will time restore it as earth onward rolls ? 

AVhen from its frozen tomb the green blade springs, 
And the freed brook leaps forth in sparkling foam, 

When the mean worm hath found resplendent 
wings — 
Oh saj, will then to us the morning come ? 

The morning of the tomb breaks not on earth ! 

Eje hath not seen the light of it arise — 
None but the Great Physician sees the birth 

That strips the spirit from its earth disguise ! 

And only when we pass the shadowy tomb. 
And are forgotten 'mid the city's hum — 

And learn joy comes from grief, brightness from 
gloom — 
Then, only then, will Love's glad morning come ! 



142 THE SETTING SUN. 



THE SETTING SUN. 



The setting Sun ! how softly lie 
Its golden rays along tlie land — 

Like smiles that linger pleasantly 
Far o'er the hills of memory ! 



How slowly sink those parting beams, 
As loatli to leave the clasp of Earth — 

So slowly ftide out Childhood's gleams, 
Haunting our age with sunny dreams ! 



Like many-tinted pencils flow 

The suiibaami painting Day's last page 
While forest trees reflect the glow. 

And rippling Avaves new beauty show. 



TUE SETTING SUN. 148 

They linger round each mount and hill, 
E'en as our thoughts should rise at eve, 

Ascending higher, higher still, 
" With Heaven's own light," our souls to fill. 

And when earth's visions fade away 

In beauty from our dying gaze, 
Like parting sunbeams, rising may 

They form elsewhere a cloudless day ! 



14-1 ELIXDNESS NOT LONELINESS. 



BLINDNESS NOT LONELINESS. 



On she looketh lonelj^ tliere 

In her high-l)aclved rocking chair, 

With her knitting in her hands ; 
Swift as light her fingers go ; 
And her hair hke driven snow 

Lieth smooth in silver bands. 

But no light is in her eye, 
Though 'tis blue as summer sky : 

Well it is she cannot see 
Narrow room and smoky Avail ; 
Now her mind can picture all 

Round her fail' as fair can be! 

Is she lonely ? no, for she 
Hath a guest there constantly ; 

Who is there ? the Kin<2; of Kino-s ! 



BLINDNESS NOT LONELINESS. 14v 

Breathing comfort all around, 
Talking to lier -without sound, 
Of the spirit's better things. 

None so poor He wiU not come 
Bringing peace unto their home ! 

None so low He will not hear — 
None so high they may not bow 
In His presence humbly low ; 

None so vile they are not dear ! 

Though without is darkest night, 
God hath said, " Let there be light ! " 

In the Blind one's world within ! 
And its flowers are brought to view, 
Bright as heart-flowers ever grew, 

Wlien unchoked by weeds of sin. 

Better is it to be blind 

To the Outward, though 'tis lined 

With a beautiful array ; 
Than having eyes to see not 
The soiiVs world with beauties fraught. 

Which shall never pass away. 
13 



liti TRANSFORMATIONS. 



TRANSFORMATIONS. 



Methinks if transformations were but true, 

The clouds as fitting shapes our souls might wear ; 

And God's own heaven be still the boundless blue, 
As childhood's eje once fondly placed it there ! 

The tinj, fleecy clouds, that float away. 
Almost too bright for us to gaze upon 

In dazzling sunshine of a summer day. 

Be infant souls that soon from earth were gone ! 

And the dark clouds o'ercharged with rain-drop 
tears, 
Be sorroAving souls who sinned 'gainst God on 
earth, 
W^ho find Him merciful, despite the fears 

"With which they met the spirit's second birth ! 



TRANSFORMATIONS. 147 

The crimson clouds that float the sunset sky- 
Be warriors, who have borne earth's meed of 
fame ; 
Their place in heaven is low, though once so high — 
Called great on earth, in heaven they lose the 
name ! 

The purple clouds, whose edges fringed with gold 
Do look so gorgeously at summer e'en, 

Be holy souls once on earth's page enrolled, 
Who thro' life's trials all unchanged have been ! 

To float above the homes so loved on earth, 
In fertile showers around them to descend, 

Then rise to heaven by their own native worth, 
With kindred souls in harmony to blend. — 

Methinks if transformations were but true. 

The clouds as fitting shapes our souls might wear ; 

And God's bright heaven be still the spreading blue, 
As childhood's eye once fondly pictured there ! 



148 LINES. 



LINES. 



The foot-cruslied flower fresli fragrance yields ; 

The djing bird more sweetly sings ; 
The trampled hay perfumes the fields : 
And from an harp the ivlld ivind brings 
Sweet notes of melody as softly played. 
As if an Angel's fingers o'er it strayed. 

And spirits crushed by the weight of care, 

Bent by neglect like broken reeds ; 
Whose burdens are too hard to bear, 

Have filled the world with mighty deeds ; 
Thus sorrow rudely striking the heart's strings 
Forth from the trembling chords sweet music brings. 

Genius hath found its noblest sons 
Among the long despised, the poor ! 

Amid earth's meek and loAvly ones, 
Whose poAYcrs expand as they endure ! 



LINES. 149 

Crushed 'neath the iron heel of haughty pride, 
Heart perfume springeth where the mind's flowers 
liide. 

Many a blow the gem must bear, 

Ere it to us appears a gem ; 
Earth must its chilling garment wear, 
Its icy crown as diadem, 
Ere from its lap the shining blades can spring 
And it to man a golden harvest bring ! 

The spirit cold neglect must feel, 

Earth's crown of thorns its brow must wear ; 
Ere from the mind a thought can steal. 
Or it with kindred minds can share 
The calm enjoyment of those noble powers. 
Which find in Heaven the fruit of Earth's pale flow- 
ers. 

13* 



150 THE LIGHT ON THE WATERS. 



THE LIGHT ON THE WATERS. 



Nightly on the dusky stream, 

Rising, falling "with its flow. 
Doth the light in the waters gleam, 

Searching with golden beam 
The depths below. 

Humble is the working-place 

Straying whence its bright rays fall. 

Like the smile on a dead child's face, 

Which gives death's stream a holy ^race, 
Hallows the pall : — 

Bending o'er the current strong, 
Spanning with transparent light 

The dark, swift waves that rush along. 
Chanting their eternal song 
Unto the Nisht ! 



THE LIGHT ON THE WATERS. 161 

Seldom think the toilers there, 

Striving hourly for their bread, 
The rippling waves new beautj wear, 

Or that the passer by may share 
The radiance shed ! 

So the spirit, day by day 

Seeking for the bread of heaven, 
Heeds not the rays that from it stray, 

Nor marks upon their unseen way 
Joys by them given ! 



152 MUSIC. 



MUSIC. 



The forgotten language of a better land, 
How float its melodies around us now — 

Giving forth thoughts we seldom understand, 
Thrilling the spirit with its breathings low. 

Brings it not memories of a blessed clime, 
Where ere its earth-life did the spirit dwell, 

UntouchecT by pain and death, unknown to time. 
Unbowed bj care, undimmed bj sin's dark spell ? 

The mournful tolling of the passing bell — 

What converse hath it with the soul bereaved ? 

Saith not its solemn voice that all is well ! 
Is not the truth, though painfully, received ? 

The'sublimest round of organ's deepest tone. 
The thunder's peal reverberating long. 



MUSIC. 153 

The cataract's rushing, ocean's ceaseless moan, 
What thoughts convey they in their mighty song ? 

The tremulous melody the wind awakes 

From the harps'-strings, the wild-birds' varied 
notes, 
The soft breeze rustling low through flowers and 
brakes. 
The mournful cadence that at evening floats. 

The lullaby that soothes the slumbering child, 
The wailing chant voicing the spirit's cry, 

The Avand'ring minstrelsy that hath beguiled 
With simple melodies in passing by — 

All, evermore, breathe a mysterious theme. 

Recalling memories of other days ; 
Of which the spirit doth but faintly dream. 

When it awakens to these passing lays ! 



154 eabth's scenes. 



EARTH'S SCENES. 



I LOOKED on Earth ; slie gave a little child 

His lap brimful of flowere, running o'er ; 
Such as are growing bj the roadside wild, 

Beneath old fences, bj each grass-grown door ; 
Then home he trotted with his cheap gained wealth, 

Upon them fondly bent his childish eyes, 
Giving to all he met what pleased himself, 

Still holding carefully his scented prize. 

I looked on Earth ; her mountains rising high, 

She urged a bright, bold, careless youth to climb ; 
Who vainly thought by them to reach the sky. 

The bright blue sky he loved in early time — 
He reached the summit, and there sat him down ; 

But, lo ! his features early had grown old : 
Upon his brow there hung a settled frown. 

And like the mountain's top his heart Avas cold ! 



earth's scenes. 155 

I looked on Eartli ; she of her yellow store 

Was pouring freely in the out-stretched hand 
Of manhood, who did ever ask for more, 

Until beneath his load he scarce could stand ; 
Then bent he feebly with his face to earth, 

Forgetful ever of the changing sky : 
True men did prize him, but 'twas not for worth! 

And childhood blessed him not with voice nor eye ! 

I looked on Earth ; unto an aged man 

A boon, the last we take from her, she gave, 
(Decked with the flowers for -which his childhood ran,) 

Within the churches' humble yard, A Grave ! 
There the blue sky bent over him once more, 

(As bends a mother her dead child above !) 
Mourning the eyes that sought its face of yore. 

Giving hij3 grave its daily look of love ! 



15G THE ENTRANCE. 



THE ENTRANCE. 



Before a glorious mansion 
A small child sat liim clown, 

Its radiance brightly shining 

While outward lights had flown ; 

He looked and longed to enter, 
But lingered on the stone. 

Then passers by came, telling 
The place was not for him. 

And sought to lead him outward 
Into the darkness dim ! 

But still he gazed, and listened 
Unto the peaceful hymn, 

That now and then came s^welling 

Upon the stilly air. 
Forth from the shining dwelling 



THE ENTRANCE. 157 

That looked so wondrous fair ; 
And tlie child's soft steps drew nearer — 
He wished that rest to share ! 

Then a gentle voice rose, saying, 

'• Forbid him not to come ! " 
And the little child was welcomed 

Into that heavenly home ! 
They missed liim from the threshold — 

But knew not where he'd gone ! 



14 



158 HYMN. 



HYMN. 



Blest is the man, -who for the poor 
The light of knowledge sheds around ; 

Who sows broadcast the seeds of good 
On barren or neglected ground. 



Who raises up the ears of grain, 

That worldliness hath trodden doAvn ; 

And lo I " they Avhiten all the plain ! " 
And form the year's bright golden crown. 



Who trahis the plants on Life's highway. 
That never knew a fost'ring hand ; 

And blossoms nod from ev'ry spray, 
And send their fragrance o'er the land. 



HYMN. 159 

Who gathers up the common stones, 
That He vmprized along Life's shore ; 

And by his patient industry 

Reveals at length the shining ore. 

Blest is the man, who for the poor 
The hght of kno\Yledge sheds around ! 

His seeds earth-sown shall heavenward spring. 
And from his life rich fruits al)0und ! 



160 BETTER DAYS. 



BETTER DAYS. 



Was it a dream that came to me ? 
That men's care-worn faces seem to be 
Clothed with a cahn serenity, 

A peaceful holiness — 
A spirit's voice ? that said no more 
Shall the blood of man like water pour, 
Staining the flowers on earth's green floor, 

That fain his path would bless. 

Was it a vision of the night ? 

Making each child seem an Angel bright. 

Free from earth's mildew, sin's with'ring blight 

That falls upon the young ; 
Graceful and winning ev'rjwhcre, 
Grown like the flowers bj God's own care. 
Like them blooming as fresh and fair. 

Earth's hills and vales anions: ! 



BETTER DAYS. 161 

Was it a dream ? that man did feel 
Themselves as Brothers for woe or weal ? 
Seeking the wounds of life to heal 

With soothing words of love — 
Speaking to each as on he Avends, 
Grasping in every hand a friend's, 
Smoothing the path of Age that tends 

So tremblingly above ! 

Was it a dream ? that woman's lot 
Was with unkindness never fraught ? 
That her ajffections ne'er were sought 

To be as worthless spurned ! 
No dream ! but 'twas a glimpse of years 
Whose coming bright as the sun's appears, 
Drying the dew of earthly tears 

From eyes like flowers upturned. 

The aged feel its cheering ray, 
Though like pale stars at the break of day. 
Its glory comes as they pass away 
Into a realm untrod ! 
14* 



162 BETTER DAYS. 

But may the young live to behold 
Those golden days so long foretold, 
When each lone wanderer to the fold 
Shall be reclaimed by God ! 



HOW LOXG ? 163 



HOW LONG? 



How long, Heart, within this frame of mine 
Will thy slow, measured beat keep tireless on ? 

Like patient pris'ner seeking day by day 

To wear thy cell's dark walls and burst thy way 
To outer light .' 

How long, Eyes, will ye these scenes around 
In their fresh, glowing beauty for me paint ? 

Making the earth her Eden loveliness 
Renew year after year my soul to bless, 
With earth content. 

How long, Limbs, will ye support my weight — 
Ere ye grow feeble with the course of years ? 

Or will ye bear me firmly to the gate, 

Where all my Aveariness and pain and tears 
I shall lay down. 



164 HOW LONG ? 

How long, Ears, will yc transmit to me 
The melodies of earth, the voice of friends ? 

Or will ye closed be to music round — 

And earth's deep organ tones like Avhispers sound, 
As I grow old. 

And Heart, and Eyes, and Limbs, and Ears replied ; 

" Lo we have served thee now these many years ! " 
We are but servants of mortality — 

Slowly, but surely Ave must pass away . 
And leave thy house ! 

Eor where thou gocst, we may never go — 

These eyes could not behold the light of Heaven ! 
These ears can bring to thee but earthly sounds — 
These limbs can bear thee but o'er earthly 
grounds — 

This heart beat only here ! 



THE SABBATH. 165 



THE SABBATH. 

" The Market Day for Heaven ! " 

The bells ring out a holy, holy peal ; 

That which thou stand'st in need of, go and 
buy — 
Lest o'er the dial evening shadows steal, 

And thou unfilled hast seen the hours pass by. 

Lackest thou Hope ? God's rainbow still appears 
Spanning the gloomy clouds of sorrow's sky ; 

God's smile can form it 'mid thy falling tears — 
Woes will unveil their faces ere they fly. 

Or art thou proud ? go b\iy Humility 

Of Him who cradled in the manger laid — 

Who suffered on the ignominious tree — 

And like a child of earth trod Death's dark shade. 



166 THE SABBATH, 

Lackest thou Charitj, dost thou behold 
But vulgar filthhiess m starvhig woe ? 

Dost call him Brother who is hungry, cold, 
Paying the poor the debt thou God dost owe ? 

Hast thou no Faith, bcKeving earthly lore, 

But doubting that which tells of God and Heaven ? 

Ask that in prayer thy intellect gives o'er. 
And as a child receive the message given. 

Say'st thou, I'm poor, no money thou need'st give, 
Thy weekly earnings are for outward life — 

So cheap the Heavenly Bread that all may live ! 
Then turn thee now from six days' toil and strife, 

And, while the bells ring out their holy peal. 

That which thou stand'st in need of, go and buy ; 

Lest o'er the dial evening shadows steal. 

And thou unfilled hast seen the hours pass by ! 



WHAT IS IT TO BE RELIGIOUS ? 167 



WHAT IS IT TO BE RELIGIOUS ? 



If 'tis to love a dim old churcli 

Better than forest, bougli, or sky ; 
Where flowers bloom, and wild birds perch, 
Then am not I — 

If 'tis to raise fovir prayers a week, 
Hear others' praise ascending by, 
Within one place my God to seek, 
Then am not I — 

If 'tis a lengthy creed to say. 

To which a Aveekly life gives lie, 
By printed forms statedly pray. 
Then am not I ; 

If 'tis a fellow soul to shun, 

Because in rags 'tis passing by — 



168 "WHAT IS IT TO BE RELIGIOUS ? 

Which men read poverty and run ! 
Then am not I — 

If 'tis to scorn a felloAV soul 

Fallen from its estate once high — 
While my own spirit is not whole ! 
Then am not I. 

If 'tis to boast of noble birth, 

(Which never means God's family !) 
To rank men by their money's worth, 
Then am not I. 

But if it means a soul who grieves 

For sin, seeks immortality ! 
Teachings from God daily receives — 
May it be I ! 

If it be one who loveth all, 

Whose ear attends the humblest cry, 
(As God doth heed the sparrow's fall !) 
Giveth, although his mite be small — 
May it be I ! 



" ECCE HOMO." 1G9 



"ECCE HOMO." 



Behold the man ! upon his brow 

The cruel thorns are rankling deep — 

But his mild eyes his spirit show, 
And still their gentle radiance keep. 

Deep is the agony that brings 

Thick drops of blood and anguish there ; 
But deeper woe within him springs, 

A heavier cross his soul must bear. 

Where are the strong ? whose strength he gave — 
The weak ? whose impotence he healed — 

Why fly they not their Lord to save, 
Who once in adoration kneeled ? 

Where the once blind ? whose sight he brought — 
Can they behold his woe unmoved ? 
15 



170 " ECCE HOMO." 

Where the disciples he hath taught ? 

All fled ! (save him Avhom Jesus loved.) 

Afar, far off they stand aloof ! 

Is this the King their pride has known ? 
Why give not now the final proof ? 

And hid on high appear his throne ? 



Beneath the cross there standeth one 
Beholding not the King of khigs — 

The mother only sees her son, 

Her love 'mid shame the closer clings ! 

And not unmindful of her then, 

('Mid agony none e'er may know,) 

He sought her future comfort, when 
The dews of death were on his brow. 

Oh holy One, shall men still strive 
With futile words to fix thy name ; 

When thou dost wait to see them live 

Meekly, like thee, mid wrong and shame ? 



" ECCE HOMO." 171 

Oil holj Love ! that through this life 

Unrecognized, could daj by day 
Mix with its dust and worldly strife, 

And through the grave prepare the way. 

Death on thy love no shadow lays — 
Before thine earthly love grows dim — 

A feeble star in morning's rays — 
A bubble dashed from ocean's brim. 



172 THE EARTH PILGRIM. 



THE EARTH PILGRIM. 



Arouse thee, Pilgrim ! though the summer air 
Be filled with sweetness, and the cool south wind 

With its soft fingers layeth back thy hair, 

And sleep with dreamy spell would seek to bind. 
Slumber thou not ! 

Though mossy banks would woo thee to repose, 
And shallow streams to slake thy thirst invite, 

Though round thee bloom the lily and the rose 
In bursting beauty on thy ravished sight, 
Tarry not thou ! 

Onward and upward lies thy rugged Avay — 

Darkness and gloom seem brooding o'er thy path ; 
But round yon mountain's top bright sunbeams play, 
And star-lit eyes beam through the tempest's 
wrath ; 

Press onward thou ! 



THE EARTH PILGRIM. 173 

Around thy path oftimes bright flowers shall cling, 
To give refreshment to thj wearied eje ; 

From seeds which thou did'st sow in life's young- 
spring, 
And deemed forgotten as thou passed them by ; 
• They will arise ! 

When to the narrow gate they footsteps come, 
Be not faint hearted, though the way be dim ; 

Nor with the earthly cloud the heavenly home, 
But feel thy trust and hope are still with Him — 
God, who is near ! 



15* 



174: "this man was also avith him!'" 



" THIS MAN WAS ALSO WITH HIM ! " 



Thou also wast witli Him ! I saw thee go round 
Where the dwelUngs of wretchedness, hunger, 

abound ; 
Where the closet was bare, and the hearth-stone 

Avas cold ; 
Giving hope to the young, and supporting the old. 

Thou also wast with Him ! thou wert in the cell, 
Where crime and its punishment closely must dwell ; 
I heard thee there telling of freedom above. 
There striving to ransom the spirit by Love. 

Thou also wast with Him ! I saw round thy knee. 
The bright heads of children, whose eyes earnestly 
Looked up with a pure trusting faith to thine own ; 
And I saw, as of old, Christ's blessing come down. 



" THIS MAN WAS ALSO WITH HIM ! " 175 

Thou also wast with Him ! thou preacher of Right ! 
Whose sword is of truth, Avho hast fought the good 

fight ; 
Who hast left the dead Past Avith its dry bones to 

lie — 
When Humanity needeth thy succor liard hy. 



Thou also wast Avith Ilim I Believer in Peace ! 
Future time shall behold, what thy Faith now views, 

cease ; 
And the Sons; of the Angels once more men shall 

hear, 
Which now, even noAV, rings its chime in tliine ear. 



Thou also wast with Him ! Repentant of Sin ! 

The peace in thine eyes tells me where thou hast 

been ; 
Thy downfall, thy conflict, misgivings are o'er — 
With the voice of thy Saviour, " go sin thou no 

more 1 " 



17G " THIS MAN WAS ALSO WITH HIM ! " 

0, would that to all, wlicn the night groweth dim, 
Angel voices might saj, "• ye were also with Him ! " 
As ye lightened earth's woes, as ye strove to set free 
The souls of the least ! so ye did it to Me ! 



THE CHOICE. 177 



THE CHOICE. 



There was a child of sorrow, (who is not ?) 
Aged, and sinking to his hist repose ; 

His Ufe with bitter teachings had been fi-aught 
Till but one thought within his sj^irit rose. 
The hope of Heaven ! 

And as he journeyed onward to his grave, 

Eternity was whispering in his ear. 
Bidding him drop Time's hand, who would but save 

Him for new trials ; while his heart to cheer 
To her was given ! 

Her voice was pleasant, for it told of rest — 
Not that of indolence, but rest from sin ! 

It spoke of toil whose labors should be blest, 
Not all unrecompensed as here they'd been — 
It told of Peace ! 



178 THE CHOICE. 

It spoke of friends whose souls had passed before, 
Whose spirits beckoning would bid him come, 

To breathe new happiness upon that shore, 
Where they had found a bright, eternal home ! 
Then did it cease. 

His hand was out-stretched to be placed within 
Eternity's, but lo ! veiled is her face ! 

And shrinking back to woe, and pain, and sin. 
The soul, though sad, forlorn, clung to its place, 
Its home on earth. 

But bright-eyed Faith Avith its far-seeing power. 
Eternity's dark veil bade it look through ; 

And lo ! its God was with it in the hour. 

When earth was fading from its feeble view. 
And knew its worth ! 



SELF REVELATION. 179 



SELF REVELATION. 

" May God reveal every one to liimsclf, and then may He save 
us from despair ! " 

Reveal me to myself! e'en though it be 
A gloomy picture, an o'erwhelming sight ; 
And from the canvas I in wild aifright 
INIust start ! or bow myself in deep humility. 
And can it be that I have e'er denied 
A cup of water, Holy One, to Thee ? 
Have seen unmoved Thy want and poverty, 
My heart shut up in selfishness and pride ? 
Thee naked have I seen, and clothed Thee not ? 
The King of Heaven a homeless man on earth — 
Nor welcomed Thee unto my blazing hearth. 
Because in purple Thou could'st not be brought ? 
Thee have I seen in prison, to death condemned ; 
Nor ministered, nor striven to set Thee free ? 
Thou who did'st die for me on Calvary ! 
And can I think or hope to call Thee friend ? 



180 SELF REVELATION". 

Thoe in earth's meanest cliildren have I seen, 
Thine image traced 'neath misery and woe ? 
Found in the weeping way, 't^Yas Thine to know, 
The patient suffering where Thou had'st Thy throne ? 
Have I accepted hfe because 'twas given, 
Unsrrateful and unmindful of its aim ? 
Forgetting Thou to show the way e'er came, 
By which my wandering steps might turn to heaven ? 
Have I oft thought of death as of a friend, — 
Of a new workl, a happier one than this, — 
Nor my soul fitted for that higher bliss ? 
Besun on earth the life that ne'er shall end ? 
Reveal me to myself, e'en though it be 
A gloomy picture, an o'crwhelming sight ; 
And from the canvas I in wild affright 
Must start ! or bow myself in deep humility ! 



time's scenes, 181 



TIME'S SCENES. 



Methought I saw Time stopping 

Where cliikiren were at play ; 
Forgetting to turn his hour-glass, 

Watching them joyous, gay ; 
Forgetting his scythe to sharpen 

To cut down life's spring flowers ; 
And his heart began to soften, 

Like earth's breast after showers. 

But the rosy, graceless children 

Cried out, " Old Time, begone ! 
Hasten and bring our manhood 

Swiftly, more swiftly on : 
Your dull old scythe quick sharpen, 

Reverse your empty glass ; 
And bid the laggard hours 

In quick procession pass ! " 
16 



182 time's scenes. 

Tims turned away in sadness — 

But ere he went lie laid 
His hand on curls so golden, 

That graced each lad and maid ; 
And sunshine played more dimly 

Upon the shining hair, 
But Time's hand pressed so lightly, 

They knew not it was there. 

Methought I saw Time gazing 

Where two young lovers met ; 
And both with Mm were pleading 

His errand to forget ; 
Fresh flowers around his hour-glass 

The young girl joyous twined, 
" Forget Me Not," and " Maidens' Blush," 

The golden sands to bind. 

But Time rephed in sorrow, 
" I once like you was young ; 

And round the earth in Eden, 
liike a warm mist I hung ; 



time's scenes. 183 

The earth in vernal beauty, 

And I in youthful prime ; 
The earth still blooms as ever, 

But I am gray, old Time ! 

Methought I saw Time, leading 

Along an aged man, 
Who cried, " leave me, leave me ! " 

But still Time faster ran : 
And the weak step grew feebler. 

Upon earth's rocky floor ; 
But still Time's pace ne'er slackened, 

Till at the grave's dark door. 

He said, " here will I leave thee ! 

Eternity I greet ; 
Eternity, my brother, 

'Tis only here we meet ! 
Receive this passing mortal ; 

Lead him a pleasant way ; ' 

Bring him beside green pastures, 

Where living waters play ; 



184 time's scenes. 

No cross upon his shoulders, 

No care upon his brow ; 
Heaven's blessedness for weariness 

Give the Immortal now ! 
And if a thought of earth-life 

Steal though his endless j^ears, 
May he renew its gladness, 

Forget its pain- wrung tears ! " 



THE UNKNOWN CHRIST. 185 



THE UNKNOWN CHRIST. 



Thou wert beside us on our daily way, 

And we perceived not Thy benignant eyes ; 

Nor marked Thee stop, earth's sorrows to allay, 
Reaching the Avretchedness that lowest lies. 

Careless we walked, nor saw the blind receive 
The sight of things their inward eyes knew not ; 

The famished multitudes by Thee were fed, 
And we of living bread no morsel sought. 

We gazed upon the dead, and saw the tomb 
Seal up its treasures from our weeping eyes ; 

Nor felt Thy glory shine amid the gloom. 

Nor heard Thy voice say to the soul, " Arise ! " 

Women we saw, bowed down for eighteen years. 
Who 'neath their cross, a patient spirit wore ; 
16* 



186 THE UNKNOWN CHRIST. 

Xor knew Thine eye had rested there with ours, 
And Thy compassion half their burden bore. 

Or, when the Sea of Life in storms rose high. 
While heavy surges swept us at their will. 

And calm arose ; we knew not ^ hou wert nigh. 
Walking the waves and saying, " Peace, be still ! " 

And when the sick and weary round Thee came 
To hear Thy tenderness and love revealed ; 

We pressed not through the crowd to touch Thy 
robe. 
And of our long-borne anguish to be healed. 

For Thou unknoivn the earth hast wandered o'er, 
The gorgeous fanes we reared for Thee passed by I 

We sought Thee not in earth's low places, where 
Thy ministry, now, as of old, doth lie ! 



THE OLD INDIAN WOMAN. 187 



THE OLD INDIAN WOMAN. 

[Passing through the small town of Macachai-a, I made 'Jose ' 
ask an Indian woman, seated on the side of the street, how old 
she was 1 She answered one hundred years, God bless yon, and 
'' very poor .'' ] 

Long time to bear Life's burden ; 

To watch the seasons pass, 
The snow-wreath on the mountain, 

The sunlight on the grass. 
To faint in days fierce scorching, 

Shiver in night winds cokl ; 
And still Earth's hand be grasping 

With firm, unloosing hold. 



Upon the dusty road-side 
To seek thy daily bread, 

Until in yearly marches, 
A Centmy had fled ! 

Till Life's cold, cheerless winter, 
Shed wliiteness on thy hair, 



188 THE OLD INDIAN WOMAN. 

And earth looked strangely on thee, 
Nor seemed for thee to care. 

An hundred yearly harvests, 

No plenty brought for thee ! 
The mountain's golden treasure. 

Helped not thy poverty ! 
But at the last sure summons, 

A pilgrim forth thou'lt go, 
Bearing the same within thee. 

Earth's richest child may know ! 

For that we brought nought hither, 

And nothing carry forth. 
Is true but of the outward ! 

The soul shall bear its worth. 
Its mem'ry, its experience. 

Its love, its active mind ; 
And what for Heaven it gathers, 

In Heaven 'twill surely find .' 



THE FIEST GREEN LEAVES. 189 



THE FIRST GREEN LEAVES. 



Quietly in life the green leaf coming, 

Unfolds its surface smooth in Spring's "warm air ; 
Birds welcome it with songs, and bees with humming ; 

Not e'en creation saw it look more fair. 

Brightly within its mirror glows the sunshine. 

And rain-drops slide, like elfin troops, down hill ; 

Or with a pearly fringe its serrate edge line, 
Like tiny field encircled by a rill. 

Bending above it. Eve, with dusky tresses. 
Reflects the lustre of her starry crown ; 

Like silver mitred priest, the new moon blesses 
The year's first vernal robe, soft glancing down. 

Zephyrs are whispering to the new-born stranger, 
Striving to rend it from the parent tree ; 



190 THE FIRST GREEN LEAVES. 

Who throws her arms around, mmdful of danger, 
And e'en hi Autumn, grieves to set it free ; 

Decking it then in yellow, orange, scarlet, 
Feeding its veins from her own failing sap ; 

And when cold, chilling winds the victory get, 
Casting it torn and sere on earth's damp lap. 

Lonely, bereaved, the tree breaks forth in wailing, 

While at her feet the dead unburied lies — 
Till winter comes in icy-sheeted mailing, 
(The year's old sexton,) at the sad bewailing. 
And bids a white stone o'er the lost one rise. 



THE SLUMBEKING SOUL. 191 



THE SLUMBERING SOUL. 



The seasons come and go, and we remain ; 

Because our spring has brought not forth its flow- 
ers ; 
Because our summer sheds not o'er the plain 

The golden, bending grain of earnest hours : 

Sorrow has watered hopes with frequent tears, 
Sunshine has glimmered on the heart and home ; 

Yet t\tb perfection of the soul appears 
Like a late harvest, slowly still to come. 

The seasons come and go, and we remain ; 

The dry, decaying tree, is dying still ; 
No fertilizing compost fills the plain ; 

And man foro;ets the waiting; earth to till. 



192 THE SLUMBERING SOUL. 

The forest grows "before the clearing's made ; 

The garnered ^eed hath sprouts that should be 
green ; 
The virgin earth awaits the rusting spade ; 

Rank waves the grass where young crops should 
be seen. 

Wake ! ere the rising sap forgets to flow , 
Ere life's wild forest dons its crimson leaf ; 

Within th' expectant earth the good seed sow, 
Rememb'ring ever that the season's brief. 

Wake ! ere the winter of our age comes on, 
And life's soft winds forever have passed by ; 

Life's melodies like summer birds have gone ; 
And cold, entranced, like earth, the soul doth lie I 



TO A MEMORY. 193 



TO A MEMORY. 



What dost thou here, within the mind still lingering 

Like some sweet, half-forgotten music-strain ; 
As though Time's hands were busy fingering 
The kej-notes of the brain ? 

Or thou art like some skilful Painter, trying 

To bring to light some picture dim and old, 
That held of eld, though long 'neath heart-damps ly- 

Beauty within its fold. 

Why wilt thou paint me eyes that long hath slum- 
bered, 
And Ups that move again no more on earth ? 
Faces whose shadows death's dark stream has num- 
bered ; 

Why give the past new birth ? 
17 



194 TO A MEMORY. 

Why oft renew the deep, impassioned longing ; 

The oft repeated, never answered dreams ; 
Bidding my early hopes come swiftly thronging 
With bright though distant beams ? 



Why wilt thou mimic now the old bells' chiming ; 

The holier, calmer air of Sabbath day ; 
The grand old hymns, that seemed an angel's 
rhyming, 

Or seraph's heaven-taught lay ? 



Why spread again the sky's blue dome o'erarching, 

Where childhood early found for Heaven a place ; 
Saw in the white clouds, ransomed spirits marching, 
Leavins; behind no trace ? 



Why show fair childhood's brow a halo wearing. 

And Christ witliin the life but as a child ? 
Nor after years the daily cross firm bearing, 
As pure and undefiled ? 



TO A MEMORY. 195 

Haunt m3 no more with sunshine and with shadow ; 

The future all untrodden still doth he ; 
High golden corn doth fill life's summer meadow, 
And hope's soft wind glides by. 

What though the shining grain the Reaper bideth, 

Blooming and rip'ning but to fall and die ? 
In ev'ry ear the seed immortal hideth — 
Seed for eternitj ! 



196 WINTER THOUGHTS. 



WINTER THOUGHTS. 



Old trees, hold out your bare limbs to the snow ; 

Would none were bare m hovels dark and lone, 
Shiv'ring as Winter's tempests rudely blow ! 

Would none save ye give forth a storm-wrung 
moan ! 

Bright berry, lift your red cheeks to the air ; 

Would there were none purpled with want and 
cold ! 
Comfort might teach beauty like thine to wear, 

To be like thee Against stormy threatnmgs bold. 

Dark clouds that flit across our winter sky, 

Would there were none upon the needy home ! 

While men as Levites pass them careless by. 

Nor think to tlieir own hearths famine may come ! 



WINTER THOUGHTS. 197 

Take to tliy breast, oh Earth, an icy veil, 

(Cold as the garb man wraps around his heart !) 

Deaf to rains' pelting tears, and storms' fierce wail, 
Would brighter suns might bid them both depart ! 



17' 



198 THE SHOWEFw 



THE SHOWER. 



The shower is o'er ! and cro-wned 
With rain-drops is each tree and budding spray, 
As though heaven's latest angels shed around 

The tears there wiped awaj ! 

The rain is o'er ! behold 
God's bow of promise bright'ning in the air, 
As fresh as when the Deluge backward rolled, 

His covenant to declare ! 

The shower is o'er ! see how 
The golden sunlight gilds the glist'ning leaves ; 
His spangled web amid the grasses low 

Anew the spider weaves. 

The rain is o'er ! along 
With new dehght upon the moistened ground, 



THE SHOWER. 199 

The eartli-worm crawls ; while the bh*d tunes his son2: 
With clearer, sweeter sound. 

The flowers hang down their heads, 
Like souls too full of happiness to speak — 
Like children dreaming, in their garden beds, 

Closing their blue eyes meek. 

From wood and dell come forth 
Odors of brier and sweet-scented fern, 
As if in gratitude to heaven, the earth 

Would make a small return. 



200 THIS MORTAL MUST PUT ON IMMORTALITY. 



THIS MORTAL MUST PUT ON IMMORTALITY 



As o'er the hills the sunny morning steals, 
And night's dark purple shadows flee away, 

While earth anew her lovehness reveals, 
And God's voice still is heard to call it, Day ; 

So shall my spirit leave its robe of clay — 

This mortal put on ImmortaHty. 



As on the breast of Spring the floweret hes, 
Rememb'ring not the earth-cell whence it rose, 

Receiving warmth and dew in fresh supplies, 
So on thy love, God, may I repose — 

Forgetful of life's cares and trials, may 

This mortal put on Immortahty ! 

As from the cone, long tossed by winter's gales, 
Seemingly dry and dead, a worthless thing, 



THIS MORTAL MUST PUT ON IMMORTALITY. 201 

A brlght--winged creature issues forth, and hails 

With newest sense of life the breath of spring ; 
Thus freed from storms of earth, from suff'ring, may 
This mortal put on Immortality ! 

When from a life debased by sense and sin, 
Like self-freed slave, the spirit rallies strong, 

And 'mid man's hardest trials doth begin 

Henceforth to follow right, renounce the wrong, 

Rising from darkest night to Heaven's own day. 

This mortal puts on Immortality ! 



202 THE SICK MAN. 



THE SICK MAN. 



The heavy curtains folded hung, 

To soften out the rays of hght ; 
That no bright ray of sunny morn 

Might fall across the rich man's sight. 
And there he lay upon the bed ; 

Though down, it was a bed of pain. 
No wife's kind hand supports his head — 

For 'neath the sod she long hath lain ; 
E'er since the Spring's bright blossoms blown 
To Summer flowers, were o'er her strown. 

And for assistance he would ring, 

But knows they'd come not at his call ; 

Below, his servants dance and sing ; 
With drunken song's resounds the hall. 



THE SICK MAN. 203 

Not one kind thought for him whose care 
Hath clothed and fed for many a year, 
No friends but self their thoughts now share, 
While feasting o'er their drunken cheer. 
Unheeded is the sufF'rer's call, 
Save by the One who hears us all. 

While lying flushed with feverish pain, 

Thinking himself without a friend. 
Wild thoughts of darkness filled his brain : 
Such thoughts as sorrow deep Avill lend. 
While lymg thus, there gently stole 
Ovef his mind a heavenly calm ; 
Visions of glory o'er him roll. 

And heahng thoughts hke Gilead's Balm ; 
And round his bed in radiance bright. 
Stood angels with their crowns of light. 

In one, he recognized his Avife, 

Not by her eyes of brighest blue, 
Not by her floating golden curls, 

Nor by her cheeks of rose-bud hue ; 



204 THE SICK MAN. 

But bj her daily deeds of love ! 

Unbounded confidence and trust ! 
Things that ascend Avith us above, 
That when the body seeks the dust 
Lie not beneath the earth's cold sod, 
But "with the spirit soar to God. 

They beckon him, that heavenly throng, 

To wing his flight to brighter skies, 
To join them in their seraph song, 

And each to lure him upward tries : 
Why should he stay, when nought remains 

To breathe for him a parting sigh ? • 
Death long hath loosed Affection's chains, 

Love, Hope and Health, have passed him by. 
To them his wasted hands are given, 
With them he winfrs his flight to heaven. 



LINES ON THE MAGDALENE. 205 



LINES ON THE MAGDALENE. 
PAINTED BY MRS. WESTON. 

Oh, frail and sinning, 

Yet sweet and winning, 
With taint of earth, yet not unloved of Heaven, 

For Christ forgave thee ! 

He stooped to save thee — 
Thou hadst loved much, and therefore wert forgiven I 

Transparent growing, 

Thy fair face showing. 
With look of sadness in thy soft meek eyes. 

Thy sands are numbered ! 

While thoughts that slumbered, 
From early sinless days unbidden rise. 

Thy tresses golden, 

Where oft of olden, 
18 



206 LINES ON THE MAGDALENE. 

A motlier's lips -with tearful fondness prest 

Her gentle kisses ; 

Thy poor heart misses 
The voice that now, e'en now could lull to rest ! 

Thee, all forsaking, 

Thy poor heart breaking, 
Even despised by those who made thee sin ! 

Earth may not love thee — 

But bent above thee. 
Eternal love forgets what thou hast been ! 

The Shepherd calleth ! 

His kind voice falleth 
Soft as the dew on foot crushed flower at even ! 

The bruised reed taking. 

He is not breaking — 
Thou hast loved much, and therefore art forgiven ! 



THE LAW OF GOD, 207 



THE LAW OF GOD. 



" The Law divine ! 
Say not 'tis hidden, or afar removed ! 

Within 'twould shine, 
If but its perfect work were known and loved." 

Say not 'tis ours, 
Though we so statedly-to worship go, 

And to the creed 
As 'twere the Almighty's will submissive bow ! 

Say not 'tis ours, 
While we as brethren round His table meet, 

As strangers pass 
In outer circles and the busy street I 

Say not 'tis ours, 
Though we feed the poor — our substance give, 



208 THE LAW OF GOD. 

Nor know, nor ask, 
Have tliey the bread on wliich their souls must live ? 

Say not 'tis ours, 
When we in frequent prayers, lip service make, 

And 'mid life's toils 
No song of praise forth from our hearts doth break ! 

Say not 'tis ours. 
When sorrow beats us earthward as the rain. 

And unlike flowers. 
We raise our faces not to Heaven again ! 

Say not 'tis ours. 
While we our crosses bear because we must ! 

Nor meekly learn 
When crushed to earth, the lesson in the dust. 

Say not 'tis ours. 
When we around one heart our love would bind, 

And know not His, 
Whose lo^'e embraceth all of human kind ! 



THE LAW OF GOD. 209 

The Law. of God ! t/ 

Say not 'tis liidden or afar removed ; j/ 

Seek it within ! 
There let its perfect work be known and loved. 



18* 



210 LINES ON TUE DEATH OF A CHILD. 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 



The flower that dies at morning, 
No stain of evening wears ; 

For the shell Life's Ocean stranded, 
The heavenly Finder cares ; 

And the fair, white, fleecy cloudlet. 
Its course the highest bears. 

IVhen stainless childhood dieth, 

turn ye not in gloom. 
Saying, " Lo here he lieth " — 

" The spirit hath no tomb ; " 
And within the Father's mansions 

For Childhood there is room. 

His voice within your dwelling 
Shall come to you no more, 
Nor on your ear his footsteps 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 211 

Shall echo from the floor ; 
No more your eyes, love-beaming, 
Await him at the door. 

His little garments romid you 

Shall wake your willing tears ; 
His little toys surround you, 

The record of his years ; 
But for his future welfare 

Have thou no earthly fears. 

He who blessed Httle children 
Hath not withdrawn his love ; 

The loved, Death maketh Angels 
Around our path to move, 

And though unseen, beside thee 
Thy little one may rove. 

Then weep ye not m sorrow 

That he hath gone before ; 
For the shell Life's Ocean stranded 

Hath found the eternal shore ; 
The morning flower transplanted 

Shall meet with death no more. 



212 THE PICTURE. 



THE PICTURE. 



Before his easel sat a Painter. Calm 
And thoughtful was the look of his dark eyes, 
As resting on the canvas they beheld 
What seemed to others beautiful, but not 
To him ! It was the face men give to him 
Once called the Nazarene. Kindness shone forth 
From those mild eyes, speaking of him who gave 
Light to the blind, strengh to the impotent. 
The Painter gazed and felt it was the face 
Of a kind mortal, not the Son of God ! 
And m his heart he sorrowed. Weariness 
And sadness filled his mind till they brought on 
A heavy slumber. A death-like paleness 
Settled on his broad white brow, shaded 
Lightly by his long dark locks ; to his ear 
There came a sense of hearing erst unknown : 
And to his spirit's eye stood forth in hght 



THE PICTURE. 213 

Th' ideal of his picture which had dwelt 

Long in his soul, but which his canvas had 

But faintly shadowed forth. And thus it spoke : 

" Mortals may be portrayed by tints Uke these ; 

But if the Son of God thou would' st portray, 

Thou shonldst have living colors. Follow me ! " 

Then went they forth ; from the blue sky they took 

A living blue. The dark earth with its sand 

Shaded to gold, gave forth a brilliant brown ; 

The blushing flowers a crimson. They returned — 

Now the Painter worked by inspiration. 

Till awed by the strange beauty which had grown 

Upon the canvas, he turned in wonder 

To the Ideal ; it had gone I but no — 

It beams out from the picture, — it is there ! 

But the strength which bore him through is failing. 

And he sinks within his chair ! . 

Morning comes. 
The hour in which the Studio is thronged ; 
Men stand around the picture silently. 
Awe-struck and solemn ! So intent are they, 
They think not of the Artist, till a voice 



214 THE PICTURE. 

Exclaiming, " who hath done this ? " startles them. 
Thej turn around and meet the gaze of him 
Who met them daily with a pleasant smile, 
But the fixed look of those dark glossy eyes 
Proclaims the solemn truth, the Artist gone ! 
They turn them to the Picture. It would seem 
To them almost that it might raise the dead. 
It did so speak to them of Jesus Christ ! 
And one exclaimed, " Avould He w^ere here who 

could 
With but one word restore our friend to life ! " 
Then wept they. But an aged man arose 
And said, " He is here ! and hath raised our friend 
To an immortal life ; and he is now 
With him whom with his pencil and his life 
He tried while here to imitate ! " 



LINES. 215 



LINES. 



Shut up jour flowers from the air of heaven, 
In the close green house, and the garden bed ; 

Kind Nature to her children still hath given ; 
Her treasures rich o'er all the hills are spread. 

No dusty road-side but the child may find 
Some blossom upward smiling to his eye ; 

And well he knows the fields and wood are lined, 
Where'er his truant feet may chance to hie. 

Few houses on the plain or hill-side steep. 

But through the windows with the light of morn 

Some fragrant flower with laughing face doth peep. 
Still climbing sky-ward as for heaven 'twere born ; 

0, not unkindly were the brown seeds laid 
In earth's dark lonely cells away to rest ; 



216 LINES. 

When flowers so beautiful from tliem are made ; — 
Formed by tlie One who doeth all things best. 

And who shall say that Death is not a friend. 
If from his couch our souls as fair shall rise ? 

Clothed with the spirit-robes God's hand wiU lend, 
Ent'ring upon their heavenly destinies. 



THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER. 217 



THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER AT THE GRAVE OF 
HER DEAD CHILD. 

"Hope, Heaven, remain for Thee and me, 
They are not lost !" 

Thou art not here, where oft I love to linger, 
Plucking the withered leaf and fading flower, 
As if near thee to stop Time's busy finger. 

To me thy little grave becomes the portal. 
The narrow entrance to thy glorious home, 
Through which thme Innocence became Immortal. 

Upon mine earS thy soft voice stiU is falliilg ; 
That voice which chained me to its slightest sound 
Unto thy happy home my steps is caUing. 

If to thine outward beauty I have given 
Most of my care, forgive, that thou canst bear 
So little of my love with thee to Heaven. 
19 



218 THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER. 

Shall I not yield thee, dear one, to the Giver ? 
And (not less mindful of thee,) cheer the rest ? 
Feeling that thou art round me now as ever. 

Though 'on my head Death's untold woe dcsccndeth, 
And sorrovf's waves break heavy o'er my soul, 
God through the storm the branch of olive sonde th,. 
And I a";ain am whole. 



THE FUGITIVE SLAVE. 219 



THE FUGITIVE SLAVE. 



Send back the Fugitive Slave, 
Where the lemon and orange bloom, 

And the Planters' road to wealth 
Runs through the poor man's tomb ? 

■Send back the Fugitive Slave ? 

Where Childhood knows no Spring ; 
But a rude hand roughly tears 

From its path each holy thing ! 

Send back the Fugitive Slave ? 

Where Love may know no tie ; 
But the vicious at his will 

The purest heart may buy ! 

Send back the Fugitive Slave ? 

Where the hand that grows the grain 



220 THE FUGITIVE SLAVE. 



(Though it give its hfe-long toil !) 
Can but swell the Planter's gain 



Eetum the Fugitive Slave 

AVhere wretchedness finds no home, 
Knows no refuge, but the grave — 

No hope but a life to come ! 

Return the Fugitive ? yes, 

When the heart forgets its ties — 

When the arm hath lost its strength, 
And the soul her God denied ! 

Return the ^Fugitive ? yes. 

When the Pilgrims' mem'ries sleep — 
When our Fathers are forgot, 

And no hearts their brave deeds keep ! 

Return the Fugitive ! no ! 

If, when death our souls shall bear 
As Fugitives up to God, 

We would meet with Freedom there ! 



CHRIST IN THE FLESH. 221 



CHRIST IN THE FLESH. 



I-X* every life Clirist comes again to earth, 
Takes our humanitj on Him once more, 

Renews tlae heavenly in the earthly birth, 
And bears again the cross that once He bore. 

Cradled in palace or in manger laid, 

Christ in the infant's innocence appears ; 

God's morning star lighting e'en sin's dark shade. 
Earth's weeping way, its conflicts and its tears. 

In cv'ry soul by deep compassion moved, 
Christ walks again among the humble poor ; 

And in the " fleshly robe " shall still be loved, 
While human woe and sympathy endure. 

Christ's voice is heard in ev'ry kindly tone 
That strives t' ennoble man or comfort grief ; 
19* 



222 CHRIST IN THE FLESH. 

And He is seen -wliere Mercy strives alone, 
(Thougli weak and poor) to minister relief. 

Christ bids the Tempter noto beliind Him get, 
Where firm Integrity unwav'ring stands. 

And unfair schemes of gain with scorn are met. 
And the Soul flingetli back Sin's wide demands. 

0, not upon the dim Cathedral's wall 

Hangeth the Christ whom we may love, adore ; 
Nor may His pictured woe alone recall 

The deep, deep agony for man he bore ! 

Christ knocketh now at ev'ry human heart, 

As at the sisters' door in Bethany ; 
Like Martha, we neglect the better part, 

Turn from our Guest to earthly cares away. 



Eeeatum. — Page 214, line 4, for glossy reail glassij. 



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